Soul Breaker
by gkeeper91
Summary: Part 2 of Soul Hunters. (UPDATED: Chapter 7: Lost and Last Chances)
1. Prologue

_This story is based on the anime series **Kyou Kara Maou (or Kyo Kara Maoh). **As this is also the second part of **Soul Hunters**, those who have not read the aforementioned story are strongly encouraged to read it first before proceeding with this part. _

_Warnings: Slash, Gore, Violence, and Dark Themes_

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><p><em>In the end, it is impossible not to become what others believe you are.<em>

_-Julius Caesar-_

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><p><strong>Part 2: The Soul Breaker<strong>

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><p><strong>Prologue: Nightmare<strong>

_When Ryuu decided that it was finally time to die, he found himself with a rather long interval to reflect upon his most recent life, compelling him to think back to all the events and misfortunes that had led him to this point. _

_He was no martyr; he knew that much of himself. Life – or several lifetimes to be more accurate – had shown him nothing but cruelty and injustice. Sacrifice had no place in his heart. Kindness was a strange feeling. Love was something he had never dealt with._

_Which ultimately begged the question – why was he doing this? Why was he risking his existence for someone else? What had possibly possessed him to choose an eternity of suffering just so somebody else could live? _

_But no, Ryuu contradicted himself, not just 'somebody.' He was not giving up this much for just 'somebody.'_

_It was for somebody he loved. _

_Love. The irony of the word left a bitter feeling at the back of his throat. Never in a thousand years had he imagined himself in this position – to have fallen so irrevocably in love that he was actually prepared to do something so dangerous, so stupid, so absurd…_

_The last words came to him in Weisser's voice. His brother, his friend, his comrade had made no secret of his disdain for the course that Ryuu was about to take. Ryuu could understand completely, but even Weisser's disapproval could not dissuade him from acting on his decision. His mind had been made, although not _by_ him but _for_ him. _

_Dictated by the cards dealt to him by the universe. _

_Mapped out by the very nature of his soul. _

_"Are you ready?"_

_The question jolted Ryuu back to awareness and he turned his head just in time to see Weisser approaching from the side, arms crossed, face pinched together in censure. He was wearing the body of a young stableman, which, from the looks of it, was fast suffering from untimely decay. In the disorder of the past hours, Ryuu guessed that Weisser did not have the luxury to be picky._

_Ryuu did not move, oblivious to the numbness that had crept up his body for staying in the same position for the past thirty minutes. A thick cake of mud covered his hands, his knees, and a good part of his torso. Every part of him that was not soiled brown with dirt was stained red with drying blood. A mound of freshly-turned earth lay conspicuously before him. _

_"The Keepers are on their way," Weisser informed him. "You have to hurry."_

_Ryuu noted the urgency in his companion's voice, but he refused to be affected by it. Instead, he surveyed his handiwork thoughtfully, wondering if he had done enough. In the past, the bodies of the people he had bested in the fight were always left alone to rot in the open. He had never buried anybody before. He had never cared enough to do so. _

_But Frey was different. Frey deserved a proper burial…a decent farewell. _

_The wind blew against his face, throwing his hair in disarray. As he lifted a hand to brush the white strands away from his eyes, Ryuu thought he heard a voice. Somewhere deep inside his head, he could almost imagine Frey saying, "Stop looking so pathetic. It doesn't suit you." _

_Something pricked at the corner of his eyes, and he suddenly felt like crying and laughing at the same time. He had never been through something like this before. Even in death, Frey had a way of making him feel so terribly conflicted. How was Ryuu supposed to feel now that Frey was gone? Now that he had succeeded in killing him?_

_"Ryuu?" There was a hint of impatience in Weisser's voice. _

_Ryuu glanced at him, forcing a smile. "I'm so sorry."_

_Weisser's face softened. "I know."_

_"You do understand, don't you?" _

_It was irrational, but Ryuu felt as though it was important that at least one other person knew what was really going on, that at least one other person understood the implications of what he was about to do._

_Weisser nodded in response._

_"Thank you," Ryuu said sincerely. He plucked a nearby flower and twirled it absentmindedly with one hand, the blue petals quivering precariously above a delicate white stem. _

_Nightlock. An infamous flower that was as poisonous as it was beautiful. The mere scent could put a lesser man to sleep in seconds; a drop from its crushed petals could stop a person's heart in an instant._

_Frey had been very fond of this place, particularly because of the multitude of nightlock flowers that grew exclusively in the area. They stretched down to the grassy slope – a carpet of white and blue that contrasted beautifully against a backdrop of green. Frey did not care in the slightest that the flowers were venomous. He always did have a bizarre preference for things… _

_…and people, Ryuu thought with a bleak smile. Frey also did not care in the slightest that Ryuu was dangerous. But then again, how could Frey have known that the man he had trusted and befriended would end up ruining his life? _

_Ryuu released the flower in mid-twirl and watched it spiral down to the fresh mound. The idea of a final resting place had never occurred to him; it had never mattered to him before. Not until now. But at that moment, he felt glad that this was the last place he would see – here where Frey reposed in infinite peace beneath the earth, guarded by a thousand nightlocks in bloom. _

_Ryuu placed one hand atop Frey's grave, closed his eyes for a second to offer a final plea for forgiveness, then stood up. Frey's sword, the hilt shimmering green in the starlight, lay neglected on the ground. Ryuu was a bit surprised that Frey had kept it with him in spite of Ryuu's betrayal. _

_He picked the sword up and plunged the blade deep into the earth. There would be no marker or headstone, nothing else but this. The nightlocks would spread over the bare ground in due time, and Frey would remain undisturbed. Protected. _

_Ryuu gave Weisser a weary smile. They both knew what was coming next. They had been through this before, had bid each other farewell a thousand times before, and yet, Ryuu found it a bit difficult to do so again. Was it because he knew that when he meets Weisser once more, it would really be goodbye for good? Ryuu shook off the thought. There was no other way around it other than say—_

_"Goodbye."_

_Weisser averted his gaze. Ryuu did too, after a second, already starting to feel faint from the flowers' potent fragrance, the smell creeping into his system, the poison crippling his body, his mind…_

_But not his soul. His soul would remain intact, unharmed. The only being who could damage it was now dead. _

_Ryuu pulled a dagger from his sleeve and pressed one side against his throat. Congealed blood had dulled its shiny exterior, but it still looked as lethal as it did a few hours ago, when it had successfully claimed the life of one other person. _

_Frey, Frey, Frey…!_

_He was screaming the name inside his head. He wondered if he would ever be given the chance to explain, and if he did, would Frey forgive him? Maybe never, because after this lifetime – even if it took years or decades or centuries – Ryuu would have to ruin Frey's life again…_

_Ryuu fought down the urge to curse the world at the injustice upon which his entire existence was founded. He stopped himself, knowing that it would not do him any good. Enough, he chided himself. He had wasted more than enough of his miserable life dwelling upon the issue. _

_It was time to end this._

_Ryuu took his last breath. Then he moved his hand in a slashing motion and – in one, vicious stroke – took his own life. _

_The nightlocks swayed with the wind, and in the stillness that followed, as his soul teetered on the brink of life and death, Ryuu thought he heard someone weeping. _

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><p>"No one goes there," the girl told the stranger in the cloak. "No one can go there."<p>

"Why not?" the stranger asked.

She regarded the stranger curiously. He was quite young – perhaps eighteen or nineteen, about the same age as she was – with a pale face framed by tresses of blond hair that fell short of his shoulders. His eyes, when he turned to fully look at her, were a startling shade of green.

He was breathtakingly beautiful.

The stranger was covered in a drab, travel-worn cloak, but beneath that, the girl could see a hint of a rich, dark blue garment lined with white silk. Around his neck hung a pendant, with a faded jade-like stone set in the center. When the stranger moved, the girl spotted a sword secured to his waist, encased in a scabbard that appeared like it could be made of real silver.

He must be extremely wealthy, the girl decided, to be able to afford such pretty things. She wondered what had brought him to this isolated region.

The girl had been gathering firewood when she saw the stranger standing by the gorge, looking so out of place amidst the rusticity of the surroundings. She initially thought that the boy was lost, but now that she had talked to him, she knew that it wasn't so.

The stranger was here for a reason.

It wasn't really unusual to see someone like him in these parts. In fact, the girl had met several travelers before – mostly merchants or treasure-hunters, who were lured to the mountains in search of rare and valuable goods. The stranger, however, didn't look like either.

"They don't call it the land of the dead for no reason," the girl said, picking up a piece of wood and adding it to her pile. "They say the place is cursed."

The stranger cocked his head to her, his gaze inquiring. "The land of the dead?" he echoed softly.

The girl answered him with a question, "Have you heard of the Ryuzoku before? The dragon people?"

The stranger gave her a vague sort of look that was neither a confirmation nor a denial. "What about them?"

"Well," – she gestured to the mountains – "that's their city – or at least it used to be, before they were all wiped out in the war…"

The stranger didn't seem surprised at what he had just heard. Far from it, he seemed to know what was there all along, and was merely waiting for confirmation. He inquired, "How did you know what it was? You said nobody can go there."

"People used to go there all the time," the girl explained. "It's the only place in the land where you could get nightlock." It was a flower used to make a very expensive kind of poison, and it was one of the goods that drew foreigners to the mountains – although only a few of those enterprising souls ever made their way back.

The stranger perked up. "Where exactly does it grow?"

The girl frowned. "Are you here for the flowers, or for what's buried beneath them?"

The look he gave her was one of honest perplexity. "I beg your pardon?"

She eyed him in disbelief. "I'd advise you _not_ to go. The flowers in themselves are already dangerous. If you factor in the dragons that roam that area, you'd be walking into a death trap. And more recently, there's the outpost, too…"

The stranger's brow furrowed, but he seemed to have registered only the last part of her warning. "The outpost?"

It was built a few months ago, by a group of soldiers from way down south. She told the boy so, and added in a grim tone, "They've captured anyone who tried to cross to the other side. They've also been hunting dragons for the past weeks."

The stranger glanced sharply at her, his green eyes flashing with anger. He clenched his fists. "Hunting…?"

The girl noted the cold fury in the stranger's eyes and she shrank back in apprehension. For a moment there, she could have sworn – or maybe it was just the light? – that the boy's emerald-green irises that she had admired earlier, had turned…white…

But the moment ended quickly. The stranger blinked, his features morphing into an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry…you were talking about an outpost? Do you happen to know who's running it?"

"No one knows for sure," the girl replied, watching the stranger's face warily, "but my grandfather says that they're part of a very old race who believe the ancient stories much more than they should. He says that they're just too superstitious for their own good…" She trailed off and glanced worriedly at the stranger. He had wrapped his arms tightly around himself, his fingernails digging painfully into his shoulders. He looked like he was trying so hard to control himself from doing something…violent. "Hey…are you alright?"

The stranger's lips moved, in what could be an attempt at a smile, but he only ended up looking miserable. "Yes…I just…" He bit his lip hard, drawing blood. "Could you…talk about something else, please?"

The girl hesitated, mystified at the request. "But…"

_"Please!"_ the stranger said forcefully. Then drawing a deep calming, breath, he implored, "About…the city's downfall…could you tell me about that?"

"O-of course," the girl acquiesced, seeing the desperation in the stranger's eyes. "There's a popular legend around here about the city's collapse…the one about a devil and a prince…"

"Go on…"

The girl gave the stranger another concerned glance, and against her better judgment, she began, "People say that a powerful devil lived deep in the mountains a long time ago," – she waved a hand to the horizon – "feeding on the souls of hapless creatures who happened to stray into his path. He was indestructible, and everyone who challenged him was immediately killed. No one could measure up to his powers."

The stranger nodded mutely, beckoning her to carry on.

"Years later, a prince was born in the dragon city, and it was foretold that only he had the powers to defeat the devil. The devil set off to challenge the prince, but when he met him, something made him change his mind."

The stranger's eyes flickered with emotion. "He fell in love."

It was a statement, not a question. The girl bobbed her head. "The devil befriended the prince, and vowed to start a new life so that he could be with him. Unaware of the devil's true identity, the prince came to love him too, and for a period of time, they lived peacefully together."

The stranger's eyes were fixed unblinkingly on her face.

"But the devil couldn't hide or repress his true nature for very long. One day, while the prince was away from the city, the devil completely lost control of his own mind. He single-handedly destroyed the capital and killed everyone who tried to stop him. When the prince came back from his journey, he found his home in ashes. Enraged, he challenged the man he loved to a fight."

The stranger was still listening raptly. She blushed slightly at his attention, flattered at his interest.

She went on, "And so the prince and the devil fought to the death. Some say that the prince lost on purpose; others say that the devil tricked him. No one could tell for sure, just that in the end, it was the devil who prevailed. He killed the prince." The girl made a slashing motion with her hand. The stranger flinched. "When he came to his senses, he was overcome with anguish at what he had done, but his sorrow couldn't undo his actions, and no amount of remorse could ever bring the prince back."

The wind came rushing towards them with a sudden whoosh. There was a distant roar, almost like a clap of thunder, and the girl's ears pricked with alarm. That sounded like a…dragon…

The stranger must have heard it too, for he inclined his head towards the direction of the disturbing noise, but he did not look the least bit troubled. When he spoke, he just sounded upset for some reason. "What happened next?"

"Huh?" the girl said, distracted. "Oh…the devil buried his lover in the nightlock field, and then…he killed himself." There were a variety of endings, actually, but she always preferred that particular conclusion. It was tragic, but it felt very touching at the same time.

"That's why people think the place is haunted?"

"Cursed, not haunted," the girl corrected. "Many believe that the events of that day had tainted the land for all eternity. It was – and forever will be – the land of the dead."

"That's why they're trying to stop people from travelling to the ruins?"

"I told you – some people are very superstitious," the girl said. "Some believe that the soul of the prince will return to the city. They say that he will awaken to take revenge on the one who betrayed and murdered him. They say that through him, the Ryuzoku will rise again, and together, they will reduce the world to ashes…"

The stranger nodded thoughtfully. "But…didn't the Ryuzoku return there, some years ago?"

"Well yes, but…" She stopped and regarded the stranger with growing suspicion. "How did you know about that?"

"Oh…someone told me."

The girl waited for the stranger to explain, but he didn't bother to, and the seconds stretched on in silence. Looking at him then, the girl thought that he could be a prince himself. There was just something so refined about the way he spoke, the way he moved, and especially the way he looked.

An impossible idea crossed the girl's mind. If the stranger intended to travel to the ruined city, what if…?

She left the thought unfinished. It was preposterous. This boy couldn't be who she thought he was. The stories were just…stories. Besides, she thought, sneaking another glance at the stranger's face, he didn't look like someone who would – or could – "reduce the world to ashes." He looked kind…maybe just a little too…distraught, as though the very weight of the world was upon his young shoulders…

"The devil and the prince…" the stranger said suddenly, startling her from her thoughts, "did the story say how they'd eventually end up?"

"People say that they were meant to fight each other until the end of time," she answered.

"Oh." The stranger seemed disheartened. "So that's all there will ever be, huh?" He gave her an odd, nearly mocking, sort of smile. "If it comes down to another fight between them, who do you think will win this time?"

The girl paused to consider the question, wondering why the answer seemed so important to the stranger. "I'm not sure that there would be – or if there ever was – any victor."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because they love each other," she explained matter-of-factly. "Whichever way it turns out, one of them would have to kill the person he loves. So even if one wins…he wouldn't really win at all…"

The stranger seemed taken aback at her answer. He fell silent, his eyes drifting back to the mountains, seeming as if he was struggling with a decision. The girl followed his gaze, making no effort to start another conversation. A few seconds trickled by before the stranger moved, his cloak rustling noisily as he did so.

"I have to go. Thank you for your help."

The girl blinked in surprise. "Where are you going?"

The stranger looked darkly amused, as though the answer should have been obvious. "Home."

"W-what?"

The stranger did not answer, and instead, started to walk away.

"Wait!" the girl called out, running after him. "If you're planning on going to the ruins, I told you it's—"

The words died on her throat. She had reached for the stranger's elbow, but the latter had spun around, slapping her hand away. His eyes had narrowed into slits, and as she stared, the green of his irises slowly bled out into white.

_"Do not touch me!"_

The girl froze, a chill slithering up her spine. The warning came from the stranger, but the voice sounded wrong…different…eerie…as though it belonged to somebody else. The stranger's hand flew to his mouth, and as quickly as that, his face returned to normal. He looked just as shocked as she was at what he just did.

"I'm sorry," he said hollowly. "Just…please don't try to follow me."

The girl stared, wide-eyed, and the question she had been meaning to ask all along burst from her lips.

"Who _are_ you?"

The stranger shook his head, and without another word, he took off towards the trees and disappeared amongst the foliage. There was another surge of cold wind, followed quickly by a rumbling sound that could be the beating of a pair of gigantic wings. An unearthly shriek filled the air, and the girl stumbled back in panic. There was the crackle and crunch of leaves as various animals scuttled across the woods, sounding like they were all running away from something…

And then, all was silent once more.

The girl shivered. She took a step forward, intending to follow the stranger, but she knew somehow that he would be long gone by now. She paused, heart pounding with dread. Why did she have a strong feeling, a premonition, that something bad was about to happen…?

But no. It couldn't be. It just _couldn't_ be. Over and over, the girl tried to convince herself that everything was going to be fine.

She was wrong.

That night, a few miles away from the girl's village, the outpost near the foot of the mountain started to burn. Amidst the fire and the cries of the dying soldiers, a figure in a tattered cloak stood impassively, as though deaf and blind to the suffering people around him.

Far above the angry flames, silhouetted against the ink-black sky, a dragon soared triumphantly.

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><p>Wolfram awoke with a jerk.<p>

He found himself on the floor, face pressed hard against the granite. He felt momentarily numb, but when he shifted, the pain rushed through his body in sharp, undulating waves. He bit his lip to stop himself from making a sound. He should be used to this by now.

After a second, he rose slowly, gingerly, finding several splinters of wood embedded on his palm, shreds of cloth clinging onto his skin, and rubbles of stone scattered about him. He pushed himself to a standing position, taking another second or so to find his bearings. He looked around him. A good part of the room had turned black with soot.

"My lord?"

A tentative voice, somewhere to his left. Wolfram turned ever so slightly. His head thrummed unpleasantly, and his entire body ached with each minute movement that he made.

Emil approached him cautiously, his stance defensive. "My lord? Are you awake?"

The question connoted another meaning entirely. Wolfram gave the man a wry smile and looked away. He did not bother to reply.

Emil maintained his position, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

_'Kill him.' _

Wolfram winced. The voice came so suddenly, right out of nowhere, and from the way it sounded, the speaker could be standing just right next to him. But even without turning to look, Wolfram knew that there was no one there.

The voice – as he had realized after the first few times that it had spoken to him – was emanating from _inside_ his head, from somewhere within him. It was a bit unsettling, Wolfram thought, to have something that only he could hear. Now he knew what it was like to be crazy.

_'Kill him,'_ the voice repeated.

Wolfram ignored the order. Wearily, he made his way towards the window. The room smelled like the inside of a furnace, rancid and suffocating at the same time. He propped the shutters open to get a breath of fresh air.

He immediately wished that he hadn't.

From where he was standing, he could see piles and piles of burned carcasses, and there was nothing in them that would dispute the fact that they had once been men. He clamped a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from gagging.

Did he do this? Did he destroy the whole building? Killed all the people who guarded it?

"My lord," Emil ventured after a beat, "if you're well enough to travel, I'd suggest that we move out as soon as possible. We are so near and—"

The rest of the man's statement was lost in a furious, mental screech, as that voice – the voice that had been speaking to him in Ryuu's tone – said imperiously, _'What are you waiting for? Kill him. You don't need him. _We_ don't need him.'_

It took all of Wolfram's willpower to stop himself from acting on that command. His entire body shook a little from the effort it took to prevent himself from blacking out, and for a frightening moment, he thought that he would succumb once again to the darkness that hovered menacingly at the edges of his consciousness, stripping him of both control and conscience. He was successful this time, as he managed to push the darkness back, to silence the voice that had gleefully wanted him to kill and destroy.

His inner struggle did not go unnoticed. Emil saw the way his fingers dug into the window ledge, and the man actually took a full step back, his face wary and repulsed. Wolfram could understand the source of the man's reaction; he could hardly blame him for feeling that way. He guessed he should just feel lucky that the man had not acted upon his dislike – no, hatred – for him.

At least not _yet_.

Laughter burst from his lips – laughter that did not belong to him. With a great effort, Wolfram forced himself to stop.

_'He wants you dead – you know that,'_ the voice – Ryuu's voice – jeered, _'Everyone wants you dead.'_

Wolfram did not need to be reminded of that; he could already tell from the way Emil and everybody else looked at him. But of course, they couldn't lay a finger on him, protected as he was with an ancient, if not utterly ridiculous, rule. Safety from his own subordinates was Wolfram's privilege when he became the Ryuzoku's Master.

"My lord?" Emil eventually asked when Wolfram made no response. There was no hint of concern there, not that Wolfram was expecting any.

"How long did I…?" he started to ask.

"The entire night, my lord," Emil answered promptly.

"Did I…did I do this…?"

"Y-yes…"

There was a tense edge in the man's voice. From the corner of his eyes, Wolfram saw that part of the man's left leg was scorched quite badly. Guilt rose to his throat, knowing that his companion's wounds were most probably his doing, too. Deep within him however, Ryuu cheered in macabre delight.

_'Finish him off,'_ he urged, _'Go on. Burn him!'_

Without warning, a fireball emerged atop his palm. At the same time, his hand moved against his will, hurling the summoned element recklessly through the air. Emil had drawn his sword in one swift motion, and with a slight limp, backed quickly towards the exit.

As a second one started to take form on his other hand, Wolfram quickly reined the fire in, managing to disperse the flames before they could fully take shape. Shaking with suppressed fury at his own incompetence, he fumed mentally, addressing the being inside him for the first time, _'Stop doing that!"_

_'Doing what?'_ Ryuu asked in mock innocence. _'You want this too, don't you?'_

_'What gave you _that_ particular impression?'_ Wolfram thought angrily. Why would he want _not_ having control of his own body? Of his own element? Of his own mind?

Ryuu laughed. _'Then _you _make it stop. They told you what you needed to do, didn't they?"_

As with all the other times that _that_ particular line had been thrown at his face, Wolfram could do nothing but grit his teeth and shut his eyes tightly. As soon as he did, he saw him – a wraithlike vision in frayed, bloodstained clothes, eyes and hair leeched entirely of color. He looked exactly like that time, that moment in the battlefield, when Wolfram had held him and watched him die.

The figure's mouth quirked into a knowing smile.

_'I thought so,'_ the man taunted, raising a scarcely solid hand to pat his cheek. _'You couldn't hurt me at all, could you?' _

Wolfram shuddered at the touch, although he knew that it wasn't real. It couldn't be real. Ryuu was gone, in more ways than just being physically dead. The man's soul – the soul that now resides within Wolfram – had turned into nothing more than a foreign presence that had been trying, with undue persistence, to take over his body, his consciousness, his life…

_'This isn't real,'_ Wolfram promised himself, _'This isn't Ryuu.'_ Rallying all the self-control that he had left, he held his chin up high and thought crossly, _"I wouldn't be too sure of that if I were you.'_

_'You couldn't,'_ Ryuu said, his voice ringing with amusement. _'You _wouldn't_…'_

Wolfram tried to look away, but Ryuu held his eyes, his smile broadening into a smirk.

_'You love me, don't you?"_

It was as though someone had physically stabbed him in the heart. Now _that _was cruel and unfair. With a ragged gasp, Wolfram wrenched his gaze off the man's sneering face. He opened his eyes.

He was still there, inside that narrow room, surrounded by ashes and shattered stones. From the other side, Emil was watching him distrustfully.

Wolfram bowed down to hide his face. For what seemed to him like the hundredth time that day, he wondered whether he had enough strength left to pull through this – for want of a better word – "task" that he had decided to undertake. Ryuu was right. He couldn't – _wouldn't_ – hurt him. As foolish as it sounded, Wolfram had feelings for him.

He loved him.

And that, Wolfram thought grimly, was the problem. He must go on, no matter who stood in his way. He couldn't stop now, even if it meant giving up his own life and his very soul in the end. He could never turn back from this path that he had chosen for himself, even if it was difficult, and dangerous, and unutterably stupid. There was just nothing that he wouldn't do anymore.

Wolfram lifted his face up towards the window, where he could see a blanket of dull grey clouds draped over a row of snow-capped mountains. Somewhere beyond that lay the ruins of Raven Port, a city that had once been a significant part of his life – or previous life, to be more exact. In some strange way, he was going home.

A part of him rebelled instantly at that thought. No. 'Home' was back in the land he had left behind – in Shin Makoku, where his countrymen are; in the Bielefeld territories, where his uncle and kin reside; in Blood Pledge Castle, where his mother, his brothers, and his friends are waiting for him.

Home was where Greta is…where _Yuuri_ is…

This unfamiliar place that he had been trying to get to, this distant country that Shinou had told him to travel to, was definitely _not_ home.

Why had everything come down to this? Why did if feel like he was trapped within a nightmare that just wouldn't end? Wasn't it just a month ago when he'd decided to leave his life behind?

It already felt like forever.

Wolfram shivered. He glared at the darkening sky, at the black clouds in the horizon that hinted at an imminent bout of heavy rain. He had hoped for a bit of good weather once they start travelling again, but even the gods weren't on his side on this matter. The entire universe seemed to be against him.

_'Give it up. You will not succeed.' _

Wolfram scoffed. _'I have to try.'_

He could just imagine Ryuu frowning. _'You will fail for sure. You have too much faith in the wrong people.'_

_'I believe in Shinou-Heika.' _

_'And that boy?'_ Ryuu continued disdainfully. _'You think he will be able to save you?'_

_'Yuuri will find me.'_ There was a simple conviction in that thought.

_'You think he loves you?'_

That sounded more like a challenge rather than a question. Wolfram thought in defiance, _'I know he does.' _

That was the only thing he was certain of right now, the one constant thing amidst the disorder of his life. It was the one truth that Wolfram still believed in, the sole anchor that grounded him to reality when everything else had gone so _wrong_. The darkness had taken nearly everything that Wolfram had – his body, his life, and part of his soul. He knew that it wouldn't rest until it claimed his heart, too.

_"Perhaps,"_ Ryuu replied, _'But not as much as I do.'_

Wolfram wanted to scream. He knew that it wasn't true, that it wasn't really Ryuu who was speaking to him, that the darkness inside him was merely toying with his feelings…but still, Wolfram couldn't help but believe, if only for a little while, if only to lessen the pain and remorse that weighed him down, that the words were sincere…that they were real…

And that was another problem. He was being controlled, his guilt being used as a leash to lead him on. Wolfram hated himself for yielding each time, but he always did.

"Damn you," he muttered resentfully, realizing after a moment that he had spoken out loud.

Ryuu – no, the darkness – was laughing again. When Wolfram closed his eyes, he could make out the faint outline of a smirking face, a mane of long, flowing hair, and phantom arms that engulfed him in a cold, unrelenting grip.

_'You're mine,'_ the figure whispered in his ears, _'I won't let you go.'_

Wolfram shuddered. How he wished that he could make everything disappear. How he wished that everything was just a dream…a very bad dream… But it was foolish to even try to deceive himself at this point, for he knew – even as his entire being rejected the idea – that this nightmare was his life now. And unfortunately for him, there was no waking up.

_'Stop looking so pathetic. It doesn't suit you.' _

The familiar reproach took him by surprise and stripped him completely of his defenses. Frey's memories suddenly flooded his mind, reminding him of a distant past, of a life and a love that were tragically cut short before they could even begin…

Without any warning at all, without even any regard at the fact that he wasn't alone in the room, Wolfram started to cry.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>_

_1. Okay, first of all, I wanted to say that I really REALLY struggled with how to begin this story. I had a fair idea on what I wanted to do, and what direction I wanted to take, but I just didn't know where I wanted to start. I wanted to draw a parallel between this prologue and the one I wrote for Soul Hunters; that was why I started this with Ryuu's demise, as a sort of counterpart to Frey's death. I also wanted to start at the Crypt of Souls again, but the events just wouldn't shape up the way I wanted them to. After four versions that I felt didn't really work out as a prologue, I decided to go with this._

_2. The legend of the devil and the prince is a loose retelling of the events that actually happened between Ryuu and Frey. Legends are founded on reality, and within the context of this story, I could just imagine a tale such as this sprouting from what happened to their relationship._

_3. Nightlock is a term from Suzanne Collins' book, The Hunger Games._

_4. Special thanks to **Aella Antiope** for the help on the first part of this chapter._

_5. Thank you also to everyone who read and reviewed my other stories. Just to give anyone who's waiting for the next chapters an update – I'm currently working on the fourth chapter of Games Demons Play, a second story for Anthology is also in the works, and chapter one for this story is also nearly done. Whew! Till next time!_


	2. Chapter 1: Nemesis

**Chapter 1: Nemesis**

* * *

><p><em>Not for the first time, Ryuu tried to convince himself to turn back. <em>

_Every step he took went forcefully against his instinct of self-preservation, but he trudged on stubbornly, bringing himself one step nearer to a territory fraught with danger, towards the one person in the world who had the power to destroy him. _

_It was madness, Ryuu knew it. To march willingly into the clutches of death was sheer lunacy. But did he have any other choice at this point? He shouldn't have existed to begin with, so wasn't he doing the universe a favor by ending his own existence right now? _

_"Pick it up, stranger!" barked the guard from behind him, hauling him back to the present. The order was punctuated with two sharp nudges on his torso, as the other guards on either side of him raised their spears threateningly. _

_Ryuu tried, but failed, to look intimidated. He would have easily dispatched of everyone around him earlier had they not proved themselves to be extremely useful by taking him directly to the person he so wanted to see. And besides…he had already taken so many lives last night…_

_Ryuu thought of the Schwarz Manor, and instantly, his heart surged with anger. It was stupid and careless of him to believe that he could finally prevent himself from spiraling out of control. He was – and always will be – a murderer. A monster. There was no denying the fact any longer. _

_Ryuu shook his head to clear it, not wanting to remember anything more of what happened last night. The guards looked confused at the movement. They raised their weapons higher, now aiming for his throat. _

_Ryuu had to admire their cautiousness. They had obviously been trained well, which made him all the more curious and impatient to meet their lord – the same person who, according to Weisser, was endowed by the Crypt of Souls with an exceptional power. _

_The power to end Ryuu's existence. The ability to break his soul._

_"Lord Frey!" the guard in front of him yelled as they neared a kiosk in the middle of a garden. Someone – a blond someone – was perched on a stool at the middle, a large piece of parchment propped up in an easel in front of him. From where he was standing, Ryuu could just discern a half-finished sketch of a…plant? _

_The person called Frey turned around and faced them, and Ryuu had to do a double take. _This _was the Soul Breaker? This boy? But he was too young…and beautiful…and… _

_Ryuu did not allow the thought to finish. It did not matter who the Breaker was. Nothing mattered at this point. _

_"We found this man by the garden walls," the guard continued briskly. "He says he doesn't remember how he got there—" _

_The guard's statement faded into the background as Ryuu scrutinized the boy in front of him. He did not look dangerous in the slightest, and as far as expectations went, the boy did not even approximate the image Ryuu had of the person who was destined to defeat him. He stood there, wondering if there had been a mistake. Then just as he was contemplating how best to draw the Breaker into a fight to test his abilities, the boy stared at him and made a disapproving sound at the back of his throat. In the next instant, he was ordering all the guards to leave._

_Ryuu looked around him, mystified, finding himself in a very unlikely position. While the Breaker had just unknowingly saved his guards' lives by sending them away, he had also made himself more vulnerable. Ryuu tensed, preparing to leap forward and—_

_He hesitated, confused, the intent to kill dissipating even before he could act on it. The Breaker had bent down to examine his wounds, seemingly unmindful of the danger that Ryuu posed. Ryuu watched him with mixed irritation and perplexity before stating, "They're right, you know. You shouldn't trust me." _

_The Breaker snorted. "Who said anything about trusting you? If you try anything stupid, I _will _cut you down."_

_The threat caught him off-guard. The Breaker smiled at his expression and said something else. It took Ryuu a few seconds to realize that the boy was asking for his name. The boy laughed, seeming to find his speechlessness amusing, and extended his hand. _

_"I'm Frey."_

_For the second time in a row, Ryuu struggled to form a coherent thought. What the hell was wrong with this kid, going off so casually like that? More importantly, what in the world was wrong with _him_? Shouldn't he attack right about _now_? _

_Ryuu raised his hand, but found himself unable to assume any sort of hostile motion. Instead, he took the boy's hand and said without thinking, "My name is Ryuu."_

_The Breaker smiled. "Nice to meet you."_

_Strange, Ryuu thought, suddenly finding himself lost in the green, green eyes of this nemesis that the Crypt had chosen to destroy him, unable to do anything but stare. _

* * *

><p>Shibuya Yuuri awoke with a jerk, suddenly and inexplicably wrenched into the conscious world by something that he couldn't quite put his finger into. Groaning, he glanced at the clock on the drawer beside his bed; the blinking electronic digits read 1:34 am.<p>

Yuuri sat up, combing his hair back with one hand while the other fumbled for the light switch. He flicked it open. There was a soft click, followed instantly by a quiet hum as the fluorescent bulbs overhead came to life. He cursed, bringing up his hands to shield himself from the resulting glare, taking a few seconds to allow his eyes to adjust to the light.

_'What am I doing?' _he thought blearily. He had no reason to be awake at such an ungodly hour. He had an examination to take a few hours from now, and he had every reason in the world _not_ to flunk that one. He was already a hair's breadth away from failing high school, and that was something that he'd rather avoid, for his parents' sake as much as his.

Yuuri squinted through the light, wondering again what had woken him up. He knew he had been dreaming again – vague recollections of a garden and a kiosk and a green-eyed boy who held his hand out to him floated through his mind – but he couldn't tell exactly why it had roused him from sleep. This had been happening a lot lately. Any more of these nights and he might as well turn into a zombie.

Groggily, he got out of bed, pushing aside a Literature book that he'd been skimming through in preparation for his final exams. His teacher had hinted that they might be translating a short literary piece, and Yuuri had been practicing on a poem just before he fell asleep. A litter of crumpled paper by the foot of his bed served as proof of his pathetic attempts at converting a foreign verse into his native tongue.

Yuuri shook his head to clear it, giving the entirety of the room a single sweep with his eyes, before focusing on particular objects of interest.

Everything seemed to be in order. His study table looked exactly as he'd left it – a chaotic smattering of books, scraps of paper, pens, diagrams, and notebooks filled with his messy scrawls. The chair was pushed back against the bookcase, and it, too, was crammed with a lot of things – old, dusty tomes, rolls of parchment, some strangely-shaped devices, and various oddments that Yuuri had brought with him from the other world. The two piles were indicative of his two identities, of the roles that he'd been juggling together for over four years now. Yuuri gave the piles a long-suffering gaze, as though they were something alive that had incessantly been howling for his attention.

Ignoring the contents of the table, Yuuri turned his attention to the bookcase. An entire shelf was cleared of its contents to make room for a water-filled fish tank. The glass tank was a new addition to his bedroom, placed there for one specific purpose – as a communication channel between him and the inhabitants of Blood Pledge Castle.

The water in the tank was magically connected to that in a similar container, that now stood in a prominent corner at Gwendal's office. For the entire two days since Yuuri returned to Earth, the tank had served its purpose fairly well. So far, Yuuri had received several letters, scrolls, documents that needed signing, more paperwork, and other packages from nearly everyone in the castle. Greta had once sent him a bouquet of strange, orchid-like blossoms from the garden, with a note explaining that Lady Cheri had been experimenting with a new breed of flowering shrubs. _For the wedding_, his daughter had written. She added that she was helping Lady Cheri come up with a name for it.

Yuuri suddenly remembered that he hadn't responded to his daughter's latest letter, or, come to think of it, to anybody else's for that matter. It was hard to keep track of things, busy as he was with cramming for his finals.

He made a face, noting that the tank was nearly filled once again with several scrolls encased in thick plastic wrappings – letters from his other world. As Yuuri watched, another scroll materialized from the glass bottom and floated idly to the surface.

He regarded the tank wearily, greatly tempted to go back to sleep and just rifle through the mail when the sun rose. But then again, what if the letters contained some pressing matter that he needed to attend to at once? With a heavy sigh, Yuuri reluctantly made his way across the room, reached for the glass tank with one hand, and fished the scrolls out. He sat down on the floor and, one by one, opened the letters.

All regular stuff, Yuuri discovered, eyes gliding through the contents without really registering anything. He just read enough to understand that there were more issues and concerns regarding the crown, the kingdom, and the aristocrats. He shuffled through them with a rapidly sinking feeling in his gut. He wasn't made for this, he thought glumly, surveying the pile. He could handle traveling between dimensions and making friends with difficult people and keeping a secret identity as the king of a demon race…but beyond that, he just wasn't cut out for stuff that involved thinking and debating and making sense of the convoluted world of politics. But at any rate, it was too late to wriggle his way out of this. _'At least four years too late, Yuuri_,_'_ he scolded himself.

Yuuri put the letters aside. Scanning the heap, he spotted an envelope with his name written in a familiar, stiff handwriting, sealed with the Voltaire family crest, and his heart sunk.

_Gwendal._

Yuuri bit his lip guiltily. His last encounter with the general had been very tense for the most part, as the man didn't look pleased at being left _again_ to oversee the kingdom's affairs in Yuuri's absence. Yuuri had tried to explain that his exams were important, but Gwendal didn't seem to buy any of his reasons. Yuuri wasn't sure whether he believed his own explanations as well. Sure, passing high school was essential, especially if he intended to go to college or obtain a job afterwards. The problem was, he wasn't sure anymore what step to take after this year.

Performing the dual role of a regular teenager as well as that of a powerful demon king had started to take its toll on him. He'd always been able to manage before, when he'd just started with his kingly duties. But given what had happened to his kingdom in the preceding months, Yuuri was fast approaching the point where he had to choose which world he'd eventually settle in. There would be no contest if it came down to that. Already, he was spending more of his days in Shin Makoku, returning to Earth only when he needed to attend to things that involved school work.

Tearing the plastic cover off, Yuuri unrolled the parchment and started reading. Gwendal didn't waste any time on pleasantries.

_Heika,_

_You will be pleased to know that the reconstructions are going smoothly, and that the builders are making good progress on fortifying the kingdom's walls. They have assured me that the battlements shall be impenetrable in the event of another war. _

_The villagers have erected a monument in honor of the soldiers who perished in the battle. There was a brief unveiling ceremony, and Geika had kindly consented to go in your stead. The people, still, have noted your absence. You will have to return soon. _

_Gunter and Conrad have returned from their travels and are anxiously awaiting your arrival. The heirs of the Radford and Rochefort clans shall also be arriving in Blood Pledge Castle within a fortnight._

_Yozak is back as well, bearing news of events from Dai Shimaron. He has also brought back an invitation to Lord Schwarz's formal coronation, to which – I must insist – that you decline. If need be, we can send an emissary on your behalf. It seems that Lord Saralegui would do the same. Yozak tells me that something is afoot in Shou Shimaron._

_Finally, I have received a letter from Waltorana. I shall discuss the contents with you when you get back._

Further down the page, Gwendal had affixed his signature and his seal, and that was that. Yuuri stared at it for a few silent moments, thoughts disarrayed, his brain moving listlessly.

_… in the event of another war…soldiers who perished in the battle…_

The words conjured an image of a blood-spattered, corpse-littered field from the depths of Yuuri's mind, and he cringed at the memory. They'd lost a lot of soldiers in that final encounter with Ryuu's army – a truly tragic affair that sparked a succession of even more depressing events. In the week following the funeral of the soldiers, a group of angry and dissatisfied citizens took up arms and rebelled against his rule. Although the situation was eventually resolved, thanks mostly to Gwendal's soldiers' timely intervention, it was enough to make everyone else feel uneasy about the stability of Yuuri's regime.

Yuuri consigned these dismal memories to the back of his mind. Despite his friends' assurances that nobody blamed him for anything, he still felt miserable for all the misfortunes that had befallen his kingdom in the past months. That left him to wonder whether he was benefiting Shin Makoku by refusing to relinquish the throne. Maybe the aristocrats had a point after all, Yuuri mused. Maybe he should've just stepped down from his post when he'd been asked to.

With some difficulty, Yuuri returned his eyes to the parchment, latching on to another part of Gwendal's letter.

_…Geika had kindly consented to go in your stead…_

The thought of Murata made Yuuri scowl. The sage was avoiding him. He hadn't answered any of Yuuri's calls or messages; he'd stopped showing up at school altogether; and he'd somehow always managed to _not_ be in Shin Makoku whenever Yuuri was there. For the first few days, Murata had made it seem as though they just kept missing each other, but it had happened way too much to be considered a coincidence anymore.

Yuuri had grown suspicious, but even if he had set up a trap to corner Murata, he still hadn't been able to catch a glimpse of him. He knew that Shinou was involved somehow, but he had no way of proving it. Asking the deity straight out wasn't an option either, because for some reason, the Original King was also nowhere to be found. Yuuri wondered whether he had taken Murata with him…

Damn Murata, Yuuri thought resentfully. The sage's distance was both worrying and annoying, partly because Yuuri didn't know what was going on with his friend right now, and also because his so-called friend had refused to tell him anything. It was hardly the first time that Murata had kept something from him, and in any other situation, Yuuri was willing to let the sage's silence slide by. This time was different though, as Yuuri was fairly sure that Murata's mysterious behavior had something to do with the events that happened before and after the battle. It didn't help much that Shori seemed to be in on the secret while he was left in the dark.

It wasn't fair, seeing as he was the king in the first place, but neither his brother nor Murata seemed to think that he deserved the truth just because of that. Yuuri huffed, forcing the issue out of his mind for the moment, eyes back on the letter.

_…Gunter and Conrad have returned from their travels…_

Of course. Back from the Radford and Rochefort territories.

Upon Gwendal's insistence, Yuuri had sent his retainers to keep a close tab on all the leaders of the Noble Houses. Conrad had spearheaded the mission and had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on the recently-selected leader of the Radford clan. Gunter had volunteered to do the same for the Rochefort clan. Yuuri tried to fight down the guilt that always nagged at him at the thought of forcing his two friends into the company of those people.

_'At least Gunter found a way to enjoy his stay in Rochefort Castle…' _Yuuri thought with amusement, recalling the letters he'd received from his tutor for the past hours. There was nothing to them really, just long, daily accounts of the man's stay in Rochefort Castle. It was like reading a diary, and if Yuuri hadn't been used to it, he would have felt extremely uncomfortable from the very first word. Gunter had made a pastime out of criticizing the members of the Rochefort household, while extolling Yuuri's supposed virtues.

Yuuri's smile broadened, recalling the flowery words that Gunter had used to describe him. He could always count on the man for such compliments – whether he deserved them or not – as Gunter was wont to praise him for virtually anything, even if it was glaringly obvious that Yuuri had made a dumb move or a costly mistake. Gunter's loyalty was something that he never had to worry about, and not for the first time, Yuuri wished he could say the same for the other aristocratic leaders.

Yuuri frowned, registering the next lines.

_…the heirs of the Radford and Rochefort clans…shall be arriving in Blood Pledge Castle…._

He sat up more straightly. Now _that_ made Yuuri a little bit apprehensive. He knew that the families still blamed him for the deaths of their former patriarchs, and he wasn't about to delude himself into believing that he was already forgiven for that tragedy. No matter what anyone else had said to set his mind at rest, Yuuri couldn't find any reason to feel calm at the prospect of meeting with the new leaders of the two Houses. He suddenly wondered how Conrad had fared in Radford Castle. Staying with the hostile family members of the departed lord couldn't have been a comfortable experience.

_Conrad._

Yuuri rubbed his eyes tiredly. Now that he thought hard about it, he still couldn't imagine how he'd survived the past weeks without his godfather by his side. The pressures coming from the aristocracy alone should be enough to drive a lesser man to insanity, and without Conrad's guiding presence, Yuuri couldn't have survived those grueling, endless weeks of rebuilding a war-torn kingdom. He suddenly wished that he could talk to Conrad right now, just to vent out his frustrations over these recent events in his life.

Yuuri glanced back at the letter, eyes skipping to the next lines.

_…Yozak is back…bearing news…from Dai Shimaron…_

Dai Shimaron? Yuuri felt a sliver of curiosity. He knew that Yozak had been deployed somewhere, but it was only now that he learned of the spy's whereabouts. What was he doing there? Did Gwendal ask him to keep an eye on Damien? Maybe that was it, Yuuri decided. Damien had just assumed the throne, after all. Dai Shimaron couldn't be any less chaotic than Shin Makoku right now. Maybe Damien needed help of some kind…

_…an invitation to Lord Schwarz's formal coronation…_

Yuuri took a moment to digest the words. Of course, Damien hadn't been formally crowned yet. The boy had been declared king just after the final battle's conclusion, and after returning to his country, Yuuri was sure that he'd been busy with various concerns as well. But to have a formal coronation ceremony now, maybe Damien was doing a far better job than Yuuri had given him credit for. Or maybe everything was just for show.

But one way or another, Yuuri thought that he'd like to attend the coronation. Whatever else they might have been in the past, he and Damien had become friends, and Yuuri wanted an opportunity to see how his former rival was faring as Dai Shimaron's new ruler. Besides, the human country would certainly make a nice change from the suffocating atmosphere at Blood Pledge Castle. It would be a relief to be somewhere where he wasn't the king, where people didn't look at him as if he held all the answers to the world's problems.

_…to which – I must insist – that you decline…_

But why would Gwendal want him to turn down the invitation? What was going on this time? And why, Yuuri thought in response to the next line, would Saralegui not want to go? To the best of his knowledge, the Shou Shimaron king got along well with Damien. Yuuri certainly wasn't imagining the closeness he'd observed between the two boys when he'd last seen them together.

_…something is afoot in Shou Shimaron..._

_Impossible_, Yuuri thought, dismissing the preposterous idea that just popped into his head. Gwendal seemed to be implying that Saralegui was up to something. But even Shou Shimaron was in ruins. Sara couldn't possibly have the resources to plot anything. And besides, they signed a treaty, didn't they? Yuuri refused to believe that Sara would just ignore that, so why…?

Yuuri had no answers. To add to that, the remainder of Gwendal's letter posed another set of questions.

_… a letter from Waltorana…discuss the contents…when you get back…_

Waltorana huh? What could the man be concerned about this time? Could it be about…? Yuuri's thoughts came to a standstill, and he buried his nose back to the letter, looking for more information. Could Waltorana's letter be about Wolfram?

_Wolfram…_

The very thought of his fiancé's name made his heart twist with combined anger and frustration. He had last seen him nearly a month ago, and he hadn't heard from him that entire time. Although Wolfram had told him of his plans beforehand, Yuuri hadn't fully absorbed the effects of being separated from him up until it had already happened. Wolfram leaving was one thing, but not receiving any sort of communication from him in that interval was another issue entirely. Yuuri thought that Wolfram would at least write to him, or much less have the sense to respond to the letters that Yuuri had been sending to Bielefeld Castle. But after weeks of waiting, nothing came.

Yuuri had initially been too busy to give the matter much thought, assuming that Wolfram was occupied as well with the reconstructions going on at his end. But now…surely Wolfram couldn't be _that _busy anymore, could he? He did mention that he was going to travel somewhere after helping out with the rebuilding of Bielefeld Castle, but surely he'd inform Yuuri before he'd actually go, wouldn't he? Surely he wouldn't just vanish without a trace, would he?

Yuuri's brow creased as he reread the last lines of Gwendal's letter. He quickly felt a stab of irritation at the man for leaving the letter hanging that way. If Yuuri didn't know any better, Gwendal must've done it on purpose, so that he'd be tempted to return to Shin Makoku as fast as he could.

As if he wasn't doing his best to do just that. Annoyed, Yuuri crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it against the wall. He'd get Gwendal back for this if that was the last thing he—

"Yuu-chan?" The door was suddenly open, and his mother peeked in, looking concerned. "Are you okay? I saw your lights on and I thought…"

Yuuri nearly opened his mouth to vent out his irritation with Gwendal, but he knew that that would only make his mother more anxious. She'd been observing him with so much concern lately that it was literally painful to just look her in the eyes.

Although neither he nor Shori had breathed a word of the fiasco that took place in the demon kingdom these past months, their parents had somehow found out. It was hard to hush everything up in the first place, considering that the two had to be informed some time that Bob had already passed away. Murdered by Ryuu and his companions.

Both his father and mother had initially been too amazed to find out that their eldest son had been on the trail of a group of murderers, and that their youngest had led an army to battle back in the other world, while they had been going about their lives in relative peace. Then after the information had sunk in, both Shoma and Miko had been equally furious. Their anger, however, had quickly abated and turned into anxiety and – in his mother's case – extreme fussing of the kind that prompted Yuuri to lock himself up in his room for hours on end. It was lucky that he could use his studies as an excuse.

"I'm okay," he said after a moment's consideration, and then partly to distract her, he asked, "Is Shori home yet?"

Shori, like Murata, had been avoiding him, and Yuuri was in no doubt why. His brother knew something, and Yuuri wouldn't rest until he managed to wrench the truth out of him. _Both of them_, he amended mentally. Shori and Murata.He'd throw Shinou in too if he could manage it.

"Sho-chan is in a meeting again," his mother answered. "With Bob-san gone…he's trying so hard to manage everything…"

Yuuri glanced at the clock. It was nearly two. "He's been out all day yesterday, too. Will he come home today?"

"He did call to say that he'll be here at around ten…"

_As expected_, thought Yuuri wryly. Shori wouldn't come home until he was already in school. He pursed his lips, wishing in vain that he could skip class today just so he could confront his brother.

"Yuu-chan?"

Yuuri quickly composed his face into a smile. "I'm okay. Umm…I'll go back to sleep now."

His mother looked at him uncertainly. "Well…if you're fine…"

"I am," said Yuuri, getting up and returning to the bed. "And I have to sleep. I have a test later today, remember?"

"Of course." His mother dawdled by the door. "Goodnight then, Yuu-chan."

"Goodnight," Yuuri replied, turning the lights off. He closed his eyes, listening to the soft thud of the door being shut, along with his mother's departing footsteps.

Alone now, Yuuri's mind buzzed with a hundred thoughts, his mind pulled into several different directions. Gwendal's letter. The Radford and Rochefort heirs' impending visit. Murata and Shori's evasiveness. Shinou's absence. Damien's coronation. Saralegui's refusal to attend. Wolfram's indifference to his letters…

As important as everything was, it was the last thought that claimed his full attention in the end. _'Wolfram…' _he thoughtheatedly, _'What in the world are you doing? Why won't you answer me? Where on earth are you?'_

Yuuri lay on the bed for several more minutes, unable to sleep. The unanswered questions hovered over him like some dark, invisible cloud, refusing to be ignored. He pulled the covers over himself and tried to keep his mind blank, but the questions wouldn't go away. An hour later, when Yuuri finally dozed off, his dreams were filled with more senseless visions of a fair-haired boy who told him over and over again how happy he was to meet him.

* * *

><p>The prisoner awoke with a piteous moan.<p>

His bloodshot eyes quickly went to his surroundings, registering the same sight he had last seen before he went out cold a few – was it minutes, hours, days, or years ago? He couldn't tell. Time was irrelevant in this place.

He was still chained to a pillar in the middle of a wide, poorly-lit chamber, stripped of his clothing, shackled together by a heavy chain connected to an unseen point somewhere beyond his head. The prisoner couldn't see much sense in the continued use of the manacles to restrict his movements. He obviously wasn't going anywhere. It wasn't as if he could.

He sucked in a frantic gasp of breath and wished – fervently, desperately, hopelessly – for another period of unconsciousness. It was the only thing he could yearn for, the only respite he could hope for given the circumstances. His captors had been very careful not to kill him, employing an assortment of techniques that inflicted varying degrees of pain – just enough to hurt, to wound, and to maim, but always not enough to kill.

The prisoner shifted slightly, instinctively searching for a more comfortable position. He had lost all feeling in his right leg, and looking down, he realized with horror that it was no longer connected to the rest of his body. It lay on the ground amidst all other bodily matters that he was fairly certain were his, like a raw chunk of meat that some beast had started to devour but had eventually lost interest in.

The prisoner choked down a sob, his body convulsing involuntarily. The floor right beneath him had turned crimson with blood, several wooden spikes and other sharp implements lay neglected around the base of the pillar. He shut his eyes tightly. He didn't want to imagine what other parts of his body were unceremoniously hacked off or otherwise mutilated beyond recognition. He was too afraid to look.

"He is awake, sire."

The statement reverberated loudly in the silence. It must have been no more than a whisper, but to the prisoner's ears, it sounded like a scream. Something in the air shifted, and he tensed, knowing by now what that meant.

They were here again.

"Good," came a cold, answering voice, sending a chill up the prisoner's spine. "Let us start."

"Sire, are you _absolutely_ sure you want to make use of him?"

"He is no longer of any value to us," the second voice replied tersely. "And we do not have much time."

The prisoner opened his eyes for a mere fraction, finding indeed that he was no longer alone. The empty space before him was now occupied by hundreds of looming figures whose faces were shrouded behind thick hooded cloaks trimmed with silver – Keepers of the Crypt of Souls, his captors. The owners of the voices he had heard earlier stood directly in front of him. The first was another Keeper, who was clutching an unadorned knife in one hand; the second was an old man, who was regarding him with mixed disappointment and irritation.

The prisoner shivered. He recognized the old man. He was there when the prisoner was first brought in. He was the one who had continually instructed the others to hurt him, the one who told the Keepers not to show him any mercy. They called him Gottfried, the leader of the Crypt.

The prisoner eyed the man and the Keepers around him with escalating terror. Gottfried's presence aside, there were about ten times as many Keepers in the room as compared to the previous encounters he'd had with them. What were they planning to do with him? The prisoner clenched his teeth, expecting the worst. There would be more questions, more senseless hours of pain, more nothingness…and then the horrific cycle would start anew.

He stifled a moan, tired as he was with the endless torment. It wasn't the first time that he had to suffer pain, but this – this was the only instance that he was overwhelmed with a pitifully intense desire to surrender, to submit to the whims of his tormentors, to just _die_…

But they wouldn't let him go that easily.

It was frustrating, considering that he couldn't even remember clearly why he was being subjected to this degree of punishment. With each passing minute that he spent as the Crypt's prisoner, the details of what transpired before his capture, of his recent activities, of his entire life, and of his sense of self, were all slowly trickling beyond his reach. He suspected sometimes that the Keepers were messing with his memory – he wouldn't put it past them to do so – but he had no way of knowing for sure.

He only knew that he had been helping the Crypt's enemies, whom he had been travelling with for the better part of his life. He also knew that his comrades had fallen in battle, leaving him alone and friendless, prompting him to run for his life.

His memories sharpened a bit after that point. He recalled a forest near an old castle, a team of Soul Keepers appearing right in front of his eyes, and a fierce but ultimately futile fight, where he'd attempted in vain to escape. And then…and then he woke up in the Crypt, tethered like an animal on a stone pillar, various cloaked men hovering around him, asking questions, pounding several wooden spikes deep into his flesh when he couldn't give an answer…

The ironic thing was, he honestly did _not _know anything. What could he possibly know about the location of an aberrant soul that they had recently lost track of, or the fate of the thief who stole it? What could he possibly know about the plans of the Soul Breaker they appointed to destroy the soul, or why his task remained unfinished? What could he possibly know about _anything_? His extent of involvement had ended with his companions' deaths and the eventual destruction of their souls. Or at least he hoped it did. It _should_ have ended there.

The prisoner managed a bitter smile when he realized how cowardly that sounded. How did he fall so low? He was once a fighter – at any rate he could remember being somebody that people had feared – but he had been reduced to this. How pathetic. And yet, he knew that he didn't have anybody but himself to blame for getting mixed up in this mess. He was the one who stuck his neck out, who decided to help the Crypt's enemies, who didn't have enough sense to walk away from everything when he had the chance.

As irrelevant as his regrets were, the prisoner couldn't help but wish that he hadn't heard of the Crypt of Souls. He wished that he had just minded his own business. He wished he was already dead. But it was too late to dwell upon the things that were already said and done. He was a marked man, and now, he had to pay the price – and whatever that was, it seemed that he was about to find out.

Gottfried took a step towards him, reaching out to lift his chin so that they were staring right into each other's eyes. Bracing himself for the pain that he knew was about to come, the prisoner licked his lips and whimpered, "Just get it over with…" – he refrained from punctuating his sentence with a curse, instead ending with an imploring – "…please!"

A second passed but nothing happened. Gottfried withdrew his hand and instead asked, "Do you remember your name?"

His name. The prisoner was confused at the question. He had a name, but it felt so long ago since he had last used it, since somebody had last addressed him by it.

"Do you remember?"

The prisoner hesitated, thinking hard, before it came back to him. He replied, the word sounding so foreign to his ears, "Tier."

"And do you remember why you were held here?"

Tier considered that for a moment before slowly bobbing his head. The effort it took to do such a simple movement caused a fresh wave of pain to surge through his body. He bit back a groan and tried to concentrate on his thoughts.

He was captured because he had been helping the Crypt's enemies – that was all he knew. Two names immediately sprung inside his mind – Weisser and Ryuu – and with that came an unexpected mental picture of his comrades' faces. Weisser, whose body crumbled in on itself, dying alone without anybody even noticing his demise. Ryuu, who perished in the middle of the battlefield, surrounded by three warring armies, dead by the hands of the very person he had protected and loved.

Tier wondered what happened to that boy…the one who had driven both Ryuu and Weisser to live the way they did…the main reason why this fiasco even took place…the one who eventually killed Ryuu…

_Frey. _

No, that didn't sound right. There was another name. What was it again…?

_Wolfram…_

Yes, that was it. Wolfram von Bielefeld. The fair-haired boy who was given Frey's soul.

Tier wondered for a moment whether Wolfram was still alive. He must be, Tier decided. Why else would Gottfried keep asking him about the boy's whereabouts? This was odd in itself, Tier realized in retrospect, for why would the Crypt of _Souls _lost track of a soul that they had been keeping a careful eye on? But then Tier knew of one being who could possibly accomplish a feat such as this – Shinou. This meant that the self-proclaimed god of Shin Makoku had made a move. Tier appreciated the idea that Wolfram was protected, that his location was somehow hidden from the Crypt's view, but he couldn't understand the need for such precautions. After all, Wolfram…Wolfram wasn't supposed to survive.

Wolfram von Bielefeld should be dead. Tier had thought so. Weisser had told him so. Ryuu had planned it so. Gottfried believed it should be so.

Shinou…what was he playing at?

Gottfried's voice roused him from his reverie. "And do you recall what we had discussed the last time?"

The last time? Tier tried to focus on a memory of their latest conversation. Last time, he had finally admitted to himself that he had reached his limit. The last time that Gottfried had visited him, Tier had told him everything he knew, everything he suspected, everything he remembered about Ryuu and Weisser's plans. The last time, Tier had begged the man to kill him, but Gottfried had refused, and instead gave him a bewildering offer.

Gottfried took his silence as agreement, and said, "This is your final chance."

Tier shook his head in frustration. The terms of Gottfried's offer came back to him, but could he…? No. No, he couldn't. He mustn't accept.

"What a pity," the old man remarked, studying his face. "We need not have gotten to this point if you had only stayed true to our agreement. Had we not reached an understanding before, Master Souma?"

The use of the familiar surname threw Tier off for a second, his mind instantly filling with memories of a life he had once led and of a clan he had once been a part of. He had once existed in a glorious era, when his race – the Ryuzoku – was on top of the world.

Then tragedy struck. Ryuu took control of the Lombard clan, and everything fell apart. Desperate for a way to bring things back to what they once were, Tier had accepted the help of a strange, but obviously powerful, being. He had his doubts when he met Gottfried, but at that point, he was prepared to do just about anything to prevent the imminent annihilation of his clan and his entire race.

Tier liked to believe that he had honorable intentions when he brought Frey back to Raven Port. Gottfried had told him that only Frey could end their suffering, that once Frey defeated Ryuu, everything would return to normal – or at least as normal as things could be, given what remained of the Ryuzoku clans.

The night that Frey Lombard died, Tier was supposed to leave him behind. He wasn't supposed to return and see how the fight between Ryuu and Frey ended. He wasn't supposed to witness how Ryuu broke down after he defeated Frey. He wasn't supposed to meet Weisser, who eventually explained to him what had really been going on. He wasn't supposed to feel guilty for the part he had unwittingly played in the entire scenario.

Tier wasn't supposed to switch sides, but how could he not, given everything he had learned? But because he did, he knew he must now suffer the consequences.

"Well?" Gottfried appeared to be waiting for an explanation.

"I kept my word!" Tier rasped out in a vain effort to defend himself. "I convinced Frey to return to Raven Port and challenge Ryuu. I brought him to the manor that night. I did everything you asked me to!"

"Indeed." The old man regarded him with a slight sneer. "But you fail to grasp the point. You are not here because you followed my orders, but because you did _other_ things that I certainly did not command you to do." Gottfried's face darkened with displeasure, and he added, "But I offer you this final chance to return to my service. Just make the Oath, and I shall forgive your disobedience."

_Oath…_

At the sound of the word, Tier looked away nervously. He had heard of the Oath before. It was an unwritten contract that a few beings enter to, an eternal promise that tied one's soul to the Crypt. That was Gottfried's offer – for him to surrender his soul…to be a servant of the Crypt…a Keeper...

Tier tried to wrap his mind around the absurdity of the choice that was being offered to him. From a prisoner to a servant. If Ryuu and Weisser were still alive, they would be furious at him for even considering the offer. But much as he hated to admit it, it _was_ a desirable option. There was nothing here for him but a lifetime of agony, but would he trade that for an eternity of painless servitude? That didn't occur to him as an improvement of any sort.

Tier struggled to make a decision. It wasn't an easy one to make; damning yourself to a life in hell was not that simple after all, especially when the only alternative you have was selling your soul. But after everything he'd gone through with Ryuu and Weisser, could he ever let them down? Betray the cause that they had given their lives and their souls for?

He couldn't. And besides, he owed Frey. He had to redeem himself somehow.

Gottfried seemed to know what exactly went on inside his head, and the look he gave Tier then was one of weary resignation. "I see. Then we have nothing more to talk about." He turned to the Keeper beside the pillar, nodded once, and said curtly, "Kill him."

Oddly enough, Tier felt an overwhelming surge of relief at those words. As things stood, death was his only escape – to die, be reborn, and get a chance at a new life, a fresh start.

The Keeper stepped towards him and acted quickly, without a single sign of uncertainty, driving the knife he had been toying with in his hand directly into Tier's heart. As Tier struggled to catch his breath, he was dimly aware of two things – of Gottfried's eyes on him, cold but strangely expectant, and of the other Keepers all around them moving in unison. Tier could hear them starting to chant in a strange tongue, their voices echoing with collective misery.

He didn't understand what was happening. Were they mourning for him? Was it really over? But he knew – even as he forced himself to believe otherwise – that Gottfried would never let him go this easily. Something was wrong.

It was far from over.

Tier gasped, feeling a new kind of pain emerging from the point where the blade protruded from his heart. His body felt like it was burning…melting…almost like wax… He wanted to scream, to thrash against the chains that still bound him to the pillar, to do _anything_ to ease his agony…but he couldn't move…couldn't utter a sound…couldn't breathe…

The Keepers' voices reached a startling crescendo, but Tier felt so removed from what was taking place around him. Somewhere above the din, he could hear a loud rumbling sound emanating from beneath the room, as though some gigantic, hellish creature was trying to claw its way out of the ground. From the corner of his eyes, he could see parts of the floor collapsing, breaking apart…

Everything was so_ wrong_.

There was a final deafening thud, followed immediately by a sudden, eerie stillness. As the dust cleared, Tier quickly saw that he was alone – or nearly alone. The Keepers were all gone, as though they had all vanished into thin air. Only Gottfried remained.

The man was still in front of him, unperturbed by all the ruckus that had just taken place. A hint of a smile ghosted over his features, as he reached forward to caress the hilt of the knife that jutted grotesquely from Tier's heart.

"Refuse all you want," Gottfried said, his voice magnified tenfold in the now-empty room, "but there _are_ other uses for a soul such as yours." The man grabbed the hilt. "Unfortunately for you," he continued in a whisper, "I do not need your consent to do _this_."

Gottfried gave the knife a vicious twist.

It was all so sudden. The pain hit Tier back with startling intensity, building up into an excruciating level. He didn't know what was happening, but he understood one thing for sure – he was dying. Considering Gottfried's last statement, he couldn't decide whether this was a good thing.

Gottfried was studying him carefully. He was saying something, but Tier had a hard time understanding the words.

"…need…destroy…"

Gottfried wasn't making any sense. What was he saying? A fog seemed to be clogging his mind, his senses. He took a gasping breath and the fog lifted, just enough for him to discern the old man's words.

"I need you to destroy someone."

Tier caught the old man's eye, uncomprehending. Gottfried was staring at him, but the statement did not appear to be directed at him. His suspicion was validated when a cold, cruel laughter rang out in response. Deep and mocking, it made the hairs at the back of Tier's neck stand on end. For some reason, he wanted to run. To escape. But he couldn't. He was on the cusp of death. His breath slowing down. His life fading away. It made no difference either way.

"His soul is hidden," he heard Gottfried say in a clipped tone. It merely sounded as though he was giving a subordinate a set of instructions. "You will have to find him."

Tier still couldn't see who the man was talking to. Whoever it was must have appeared during the commotion. Or maybe one of the Keepers stayed behind, but he must be far out of Tier's line of vision.

"And when you do," Gottfried continued, "you have to destroy him."

Inside his head, Tier could see an image of a boy. Green eyes. Blond hair. Surrounded by a ring of golden flames.

"Destroy them both," Gottfried commanded.

The vision in his head vanished, only to be replaced by another. A man. White flowing hair. Colorless eyes with just a hint of silver. Engulfed in a darkness so strong, a darkness that reeked of death and destruction.

"Do you understand what you are supposed to do?" Gottfried asked.

The images appeared alongside one another. The blond one on one side; the white-haired man on the other. They made a compelling picture together. Then the images swirled into an incomprehensible mass of colors, a dizzying vision of golds and whites and greens and silvers that made Tier's head spin. Out of nowhere, the disembodied voice laughed once more, the evidence of its mirth bouncing off the bare walls, growing louder and louder, and…

And that was when it hit him. The laughter…the voice…was coming from _him_! He could feel his mouth widening, making sounds, moving in sync with what he had previously assumed was a bodiless voice.

And that was when he realized what had happened, what Gottfried had done. Tier found himself waning, as another being rose to the fore, taking control of his mouth, his limbs, his eyes… Slowly, his strength failed, the light of his soul flickered, while the unknown being seeped into his body, taking command. Assuming full control. Comprehension filled him with terror. He stood rooted to the spot as his soul fragmented, then crumbled into a million pieces, before slowly dissipating into nothing.

In that final moment, Tier held Gottfried's gaze. For a second there, as they regarded each other, the old man almost looked apologetic.

Tier closed his eyes in surrender, as everything around him disappeared into a flash of agony and a blinding blaze of light.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_I actually had this chapter prepared early on but I didn't have time to tidy it up. I'm currently caught in the middle of something, but I'm hoping I could make some real progress with my stories this coming holiday season._

_Thank you to _**Iatheia,** **Anja54,** **Amed, Naruxsasumi, dying-vampire-of-love, rinoakim, juzzchocola, SangLeGuira, **_and _**Makyone** for _reviewing the previous chapter!_


	3. Chapter 2: Hunters and Preys

**Chapter 2: Hunters and Preys**

* * *

><p><em>"You can't be serious."<em>

_There was something so odd about the tone of Weisser's voice. It wasn't the disbelief, or the curiosity, neither the astonishment nor the confusion, not even the anger or the disappointment that the man had somehow all managed to compress into that single statement. As far as reactions went, these were all perfectly appropriate, given the things that Ryuu had just disclosed. No. What was bothering him was the hint of betrayal that punctuated Weisser's contention, making Ryuu feel as though he had just done something so irredeemably wrong._

_Which was probably the case anyway. After all, hadn't he just deviated from their plans? Hadn't he just failed to do what he had initially set out to accomplish? Failed wasn't even accurate. 'Failed' connoted that there was some attempt involved, that there was some degree of effort expended to carry out the plan and finally do what was right. In Ryuu's case, however, there was none. Far from it, he didn't even try. He knew it, and now Weisser did as well. _

_Ryuu shifted uneasily, and once again implored his companion to understand. "I couldn't do it. I considered doing it, countless of times, but I…"_

_"You what?" Weisser snarled, frustration showing off in every inch of his borrowed body. The face that glared at Ryuu belonged to an elderly servant who had died of a fatal disease the night before. When Ryuu heard earlier in the day that a corpse had gone missing from the mortuary, he knew exactly what had happened and what it meant. _

_Weisser had found him._

_It was the first time that Ryuu could ever remember being so self-conscious. For some reason, he was afraid to speak with Weisser – afraid and ashamed of what he had done. Or failed to do, for that matter. He could feel Weisser's presence the entire day, but he had assiduously ignored him, until it was the man himself who found a way to trap Ryuu into a corner. _

_"Well?" _

_The annoyed slant of Weisser's lips and the sharp slit of his eyes were made more horrible by the decaying flesh that distorted his entire face. All in all, he made a nightmarish vision – an angry, emaciated corpse who was currently demanding for a proper explanation. _

_Ryuu tried to remember what Weisser had looked like in his original existence, but try as he might, he couldn't come up with the right image. There had been innumerable forms, in far too many lifetimes than he cared to remember. Horrible, tragic lifetimes that should have been Ryuu's to bear alone. _

_"I just couldn't do it," Ryuu said evenly. It wasn't much of an explanation, but that was the best that he had. In any case, it was also the truth. "I couldn't kill him."_

_As expected, the answer did nothing to appease his companion. "Couldn't is unacceptable. You'd have to do better than that, Ryuu."_

_"Fine," Ryuu retorted, deciding to be less vague, "I _don't _want to kill him."_

_"I don't understand! You've killed far too many people before. Why is this any different?"_

_"I don't know."_

_Weisser eyed him with apparent dissatisfaction. "Then what _do_ you know?"_

_"I know that I—" Ryuu began warily, unconsciously holding his breath before blurting out, "—I want to stay here."_

_"Stay…?" the man parroted incredulously. "Here?" Ryuu could see in Weisser's reaction that he thought it was a ridiculous idea. His tone reinforced the ironic look on his face. "You're saying that you don't want to kill the Soul Breaker, but that you also want to stay within his reach?"_

_Put so simplistically as that, Ryuu would have to admit that it did sound foolish. Refusing to kill the Soul Breaker, the being who had the power to destroy his soul, was one thing. But wanting to be near him, to be with him…now _that_ was pure stupidity. Ryuu had to wonder what changed to rob him of all reason, of all regard for self-preservation, and as he did so, he could only think of one explanation – Frey Lombard. Impulsive, hotheaded, impish Frey. Frey, who didn't care about his past, who looked at him with impartial eyes, who made him feel so irrationally happy. Frey, who didn't know he had the ability to end Ryuu's existence should he want to. Beautiful, clever, good-natured Frey…he had changed him. _

_"The Breaker…does he know what he is?" Weisser asked, jolting him out of his reverie. "Does he know who you are?"_

_Ryuu slowly shook his head. "Of course Frey is curious. He doesn't ask too many questions about me, but I could tell that he…" He broke off. Weisser was staring at him with a startled expression, as though an idea just struck him out of nowhere, as though he had just realized something that should have been evident from the very start. "Weisser?"_

_"Why didn't I see it before?"_

_"What?"_

_Weisser looked stunned, and he said breathlessly, "You…you called him 'Frey.'"_

_Ryuu realized his mistake, and he cursed under his breath. Weisser was regarding him with wonder, comprehension quickly setting in. Ryuu tried to match the man's thought process, trying to predict where his ideas would lead to. As the obvious conclusion was drawn, Ryuu turned away, focusing instead on the broad stretch of land that encompassed the Lombard estate. He thought of Frey, who was probably looking for him right now, wondering where he had run off to. _

_"Ryuu," Weisser began, "don't tell me that you're…? I mean, are you…?"_

_The man left the question hanging, but Ryuu could hear the rest of it in his head: Are you in love with him? He felt something stir within him as he considered the question. Was he in love with Frey? He didn't know. He had no inkling what love was or what it should feel like. This need to be with Frey, this desire to always be by his side – was this love? But he didn't want to just be with him. He wanted more. Frey's friendship, his respect, his attention – everything he could take. He wanted him._

_Ryuu flushed, curbing his thoughts away from the direction it had taken. Unfortunately, Weisser did not miss his reaction._

_"You are, aren't you?" the man probed._

_Ryuu recovered quickly and offered his companion a wry smile. "Is it wrong?"_

_"No," Weisser answered after some consideration, adding swiftly, "if only the circumstances were a bit different." _

_"You don't need to tell me that."_

_"And you also know that this wouldn't…?"_

_Again, Weisser left his sentence trailing into the air, leaving Ryuu to fill in the blanks himself: You know it wouldn't last. This feeling, if this indeed was love, could only lead to tragedy. They both knew it._

_"Even so," Ryuu said quietly, "I…I want to be here. With him."_

_Weisser took a moment to let everything sink in. When he finally spoke again, his voice was laced with sympathy. "So, change of plans, huh?"_

_"Yes. I'm sorry. I'm afraid I would need your help for a lot longer than we agreed upon."_

_"I can live with it. But can _you_ still go on?"_

_Ryuu's eyes flashed. "I will." And he knew that he could because he had no other choice. _

_The resolve in his eyes wasn't lost on Weisser, who only shrugged and snorted. "Heh. And here I was thinking what you've been up to for the past two months. I thought that the Crypt must have done something, but when I sensed that you were still alive…" He shook his head in exasperation. "Of all the idiotic things to do…! You really have a knack of entangling yourself in the worst possible scenarios, do you know that?"_

_Worst possible scenario. It was a fitting description of his current situation, Ryuu agreed silently. Falling for the person he was supposed to kill, the person who was supposed to break him in return, the person who would have to vanish along with him when everything was over…really, what could be any more paradoxical than that?_

_"But you're happy," Weisser observed, looking torn between censure and concurrence. "Happiness…suits you." Ryuu merely smiled at him. The man exhaled loudly and then conceded, "It's settled then. You can stay if you want to."_

_"Thank you. Really, I…" _

_"This isn't anything to get all sentimental about, Ryuu," Weisser chided. "You're in deep trouble, you know that. And I still don't think this is a good idea, but well…you might as well be happy here while you can." _

_Ryuu nodded gratefully._

_"My time is up," his companion noted, giving himself a once-over. His body was starting to disintegrate. Corpses tended to last for only a short time as compared to living bodies, and save for special circumstances that necessitated a longer stay in the mortal world, Weisser only ever used dead bodies to be able to communicate with him. "I'd have to leave for now, but I'll be around if you need me."_

_"I know."_

_"Be careful…" Weisser whispered for the last time._

_Ryuu waved a hand in silent farewell, waiting until he was truly alone before turning and walking away. In the distance, he could see the spires of Lombard Manor, and he quickened his pace, abruptly seized with a desire to return to the place where he knew Frey would be waiting. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of the boy, and that was when he realized with certainty that he was – as Weisser pointed out – in deep trouble._

_Very deep trouble._

* * *

><p>Gottfried knew the rules.<p>

He was there when the laws were laid down, when the powers-that-be had agreed upon what was allowed and what was not. Throughout his time in the Crypt of Souls, Gottfried had never broken the rules, much less dreamed of going against them. That was to say that he had not – not even once – stepped beyond the bounds of his authority. He had found ways to twist the rules to his advantage, true, but other than that, he had always complied with what was permissible, with what was needed.

Indeed, there were many things he did that were deemed by many as cruel and unlawful – the experiments, the creation of Soul Breakers, the instances when he had to sacrifice the lives of his own Keepers to achieve a certain goal…but everything was necessary. Difficult, but necessary.

Sacrifice, he thought. He was no stranger to the idea of sacrifice.

Ages ago, when the Crypt was created, a huge sacrifice was done. To protect the Crypt through the changing times, sacrifices had been made. To maintain the balance of the life stream, sacrifices had continuously been made. And now, to prevent the destruction of everything they held dear, a huge sacrifice was, once again, sorely needed.

It _had_ been done. The difficult part was over. Gottfried had summoned _him. _Despite the cost it had taken to do so, he could at least rely on that creature to dispose of those troublesome souls for good. He was left with no other choice.

Gottfried scoffed. Serves that Mazoku brat right for reneging on their deal. Gottfried had given him the opportunity to depart the living world in his own terms, and the chance to finally rectify a mistake, but Wolfram had taken it all for naught. That boy had forced his hand, and now that Gottfried had initiated Wolfram's destruction himself, there was no stopping it any longer. He had not even considered that he would have to resort to such a desperate move, but Gottfried felt that it was necessary, even if doing so meant coming dangerously close to breaking all the rules that he had promised to uphold.

Sacrifice, Gottfried repeated inside his head. The Mazoku's destruction was a sacrifice he was willing to take.

"Sire?" A Keeper appeared before him, rousing him from his thoughts. "We are ready."

Now that the matter concerning Wolfram's and Ryuu's souls had been remedied, Gottfried can now focus his attention on more pressing matters. His plans had been set in motion, and he would do everything to see these through completion. A pure world, he thought wistfully, a world free of corruption and deceit. Through him, _that _world was now within reach.

"Did everyone come?" he inquired. He had ordered all remaining Keepers to convene in the hall, but he knew that it would not happen without any difficulty. He was well aware that some of his subordinates had started questioning the logic behind his recent actions. Not everyone believed that he had the means to accomplish his vision, Gottfried knew that.

"Everyone who wishes to cooperate, sire," the Keeper answered with some apprehension. It was clear that he hated having to be the one to deliver this particular news. "We await your orders."

"I take it that there are a few who objected?"

The Keeper shifted nervously. "Y-yes sire. We…we tried to talk some sense into them, but…"

"But?"

"…they are confused, sire. What you did…with the others…they do not…I mean…for you to summon…_him…_they feel that it was…" The Keeper broke off, gesturing helplessly with his hands. "I…I think that if you would just talk to them, maybe they would understand…that everything is for the greater good…sire…"

Gottfried regarded his minion in silence. He had expected a certain degree of dissent among his followers, but it was not in their place to question him, much more rebel against him. He had no need for such treacherous fools. "So you think that I should explain myself," he asked coldly, "is that it?"

The Keeper flinched and fell to his knees, as though struck by an invisible force. "N-no, sire! I did not mean it that way! I just—"

"Go on," Gottfried said in a tone that was far from encouraging. "What would you have me do?"

The Keeper bit his lip and wisely refrained from commenting. Defeated, he bowed low and said, "F-forgive me for my insolence, sire. I have no right to ask that of you."

"Of course. You should be asking what I would have _you_ do."

The Keeper nodded. "What would you have _me _do, sire?"

Gottfried said without feeling, "Tell everyone that we are leaving for the mortal world. We shall commence as planned."

"Yes sire."

"And for those who do not wish to obey me, I shall see to them myself."

A shudder wracked the Keeper's body, and he gaped at his superior with dawning horror. "Sire, surely there is no need—"

"Be quick. We have work to do."

It was a minuscule movement, but Gottfried saw it just the same. A slight creasing of the Keeper's brow. A worried gleam in his eyes. His mouth twisting into an uncertain line. In any other situation, Gottfried would have punished the Keeper for his evident mistrust of what he had just been ordered to do. At the moment, however, Gottfried thought that he had lost enough servants for the day. Hesitant and distrustful as this one may seem, he could still be of some use in the immediate future.

"Do not trouble yourself with such trivial matters," he said gruffly, seeing through his subordinate's thoughts. Yes, there will be grave repercussions, but everything would be worth it in the end. "I do not see any need to divulge my plans to someone of your status, but…I _will_ tell you one thing: _I am right. _I am doing the right thing."

The Keeper seemed beyond surprised at the reassurance, but the effect of those words was immediate. His posture relaxed, and he replied with a thankful, "I understand, sire. Forgive me for doubting you."

Gottfried waved a hand in dismissal. "Alert the others. We shall proceed in a little while."

"Yes, sire."

The Keeper vanished, leaving Gottfried alone with his thoughts. Things were proceeding as well as he could have hoped. He had already lost a quarter of his Keepers, true, and he would be losing more once he was through with those fools who dared go against his will, but if he moved quickly, he could perhaps get through this with just enough resources to start over. At least he hoped so. There were a few obstacles, but Gottfried was slowly and surely getting rid of every single one of them. No one could stop him now – not even Shinou.

Gottfried basked in the thought that his dream was now a few steps shy of his reach. A pure world, he repeated inside his head. It had once been a mere idea, a fantasy that he shared with the one closest to him, but now it was almost here. Gottfried knew – had always known – that it was possible. He was sure of it.

_'I am right,' _Gottfried assured himself, as he stood up to join his followers, _'We are doing the right thing.'_

* * *

><p>"What do you want?"<p>

Murata Ken was annoyed – and rightfully so. He had been sleeping – was still asleep at the very moment – when his dream was most impolitely interrupted and penetrated by a blond, blue-eyed someone, who didn't seem the least bit too apologetic at his intrusion. Far from it, Shinou just looked so…exhausted.

It irritated Murata even more to notice the fatigue in Shinou's face. Now he had even less of a reason to chastise him for invading his dreams. Murata knew that Shinou must have a good reason, but he had been seeing him so much during his waking hours that meeting him again in his sleep felt like overkill.

Murata sighed in resignation. For centuries now, ithad been his fate (or choice?) to be always by Shinou's side, almost like the latter's obedient shadow. These past months, however, he had come to the realization that he was getting too old to be Shinou's babysitter. At some level, he was very glad that this was the last lifetime that he had to live with the Daikenja's memories. The prospect of a life without some other person's thoughts inside his head was becoming more and more attractive by the day. What he wouldn't give to be born like everybody else – a blank slate, without several lifetimes' worth of memories to cloud his feelings and his judgment.

And without an insensitive _someone _popping into his sleep for that matter.

"Well?" he prodded when Shinou did not speak. The deity was floating in midair, overlooking what appeared to be an unending row of buildings in a town somewhere. Murata could no longer remember what he had been dreaming about before Shinou appeared and altered the entire landscape into this vision. What was so interesting about the sight of a rooftop and an abandoned street below anyway?

Shinou was studying the scene with a distant air, seeming as if he had already forgotten that someone was there with him. Murata tapped his foot impatiently. "Shinou, don't be so rude. Barging into my head like this and then spacing off."

Shinou finally tore his gaze from the view, his expression, inscrutable. "I am being rude, aren't I? Forgive me."

Murata had the strangest suspicion that his companion was apologizing for something else entirely. "Shinou…" he muttered the name accusingly, eyes narrowed, "did something bad happen?"

It was like turning on a switch. Shinou abandoned his mysterious manner and adopted a light-hearted air. Although Murata immediately saw through the act, he was nonetheless confused at this sudden and deliberate change in his companion's demeanor.

"Well, if by 'bad' you mean that the Crypt had already started to move and that Gottfried had sent an assassin to track down Lord von Bielefeld, then yes…" Shinou smiled mirthlessly. "Something 'bad' did happen."

For a second, Murata regarded the man in bewildered silence. Shinou's tone was so casual, as if he was merely talking about the weather or relating a particularly dull incident. It was so incongruent to the gravity of the news he had just delivered, that Murata had to wonder whether he had heard him right the first time.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Earlier today," Shinou continued in the same matter-of-fact tone, "Gottfried apparently took a hundred Keepers with him into the inner halls of the Crypt. We are not certain what truly took place inside, but I was told that it was most probably a summoning ritual."

A summoning ritual… The words did not sit too well with Murata. He had had terrible experiences with summoning rituals in his past lives, and he had since come to associate the process with poking a sleeping monster in the eye. Both activities were equally dangerous, stupid, and utterly pointless. A sense of uneasiness assailed him as he wondered what or who Gottfried had summoned.

"Ritual?" he repeated with foreboding. "To summon whom?"

At this, Shinou's expression darkened, although it was only for a little while. "Morden," he said. "The guards called him that. A creature who was confined within the Crypt for as long as anyone could remember. He is a…" Shinou rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, _'assassin'_ is too weak a word to describe him, now that I think about it."

"What do you mean?"

"It is a complicated matter…"

He did not expect anything less than complicated. Murata arched an eyebrow. "I need to know what there is to know, Shinou. I couldn't be blind on this one."

Shinou smiled once again, but the gesture did nothing to put Murata at ease. He wasn't sure whether he was just imagining it, but he could have sworn that his companion was regarding him shrewdly, looking like he was struggling to make a decision about something.

Finally, Shinou spoke, "Do you remember the third person in Ryuu's group?"

Murata did, although he could not comprehend the relevance of the information. "The large man? The one who just disappeared without a trace?"

"It turned out that he did not disappear on his own," Shinou explained. "He was captured after the battle. By the Crypt no less."

Murata nodded to show that he understood. "And what has he got to do with anything?"

Shinou's mouth curved into another strange smile. "Everything," he replied, "You see…" He snapped his fingers loudly, and the scene around them flashed into a chaotic blur. Murata felt as though they were soaring in a downward spiral towards the street below. When everything came to a halt, he felt winded, and he took a second to find his bearings before studying the view that came into focus.

"…he is here."

He heard the rest of Shinou's statement, but he failed to understand what the words meant. They _had _indeed descended to ground level, but Murata saw nothing of interest there. The street was deserted, save for a figure slumped against a lamppost, large hands folded neatly on top of his thighs. It was easy to mistake the figure for just some regular drunk, but Murata soon noticed the scars in every inch of the man's exposed skin, and he knew that this was someone who had been tortured – mercilessly and horribly so, from the looks of it. He recognized the face easily enough when he looked closely, and what Shinou just said suddenly made sense to him.

"It's him," Murata said slowly, "Tier. That's his name right? But how did he escape?"

"I do not think that he did," Shinou contradicted. The smile was gone, and he was surveying the man with something akin to distaste and…pity? Murata wasn't sure. "When Gottfried performed the ritual, this man was there. I could only hazard a guess as to the role he played in the rite, but I am fairly sure that Gottfried must have done something to him…"

"And what do you think happened?"

"I am guessing that he was altered. If it _was_ a summoning ritual, Gottfried would have needed a host – a living body and a soul to bind the creature he had summoned to. Temporarily, at least."

Murata understood the implications, and he returned his gaze to the figure before them, recoiling when he noticed that the man was missing a limb. Torture was something he knew all too well. He could remember a time when he was the recipient of such cruelty, and another life when he was the instigator. He felt a sudden outpouring of sympathy for the tormented man. Enemies though they were, Murata did not relish the sight of Tier in such a demeaning state.

"What on earth did they do to him?"

"They must have tried to recruit him," Shinou deduced. "And he must have refused, or he would not be used this way."

_Used. _Murata felt sick to his stomach. "So you're saying that the assassin you were talking about earlier…this Morden…is _inside_ this man?"

"_Was_," Shinou corrected. "I do not think that he is in there any longer."

"What?"

"You did not notice? This man is dead."

Murata cursed inwardly. Dead. This would mean that—

"Morden is somewhere else," Shinou continued. "He must have completely consumed the original soul that once resided inside that body, and then he—"

"—found a new one," Murata finished. "And now he is after Lord von Bielefeld?"

"That was what I was told. Since Lord von Bielefeld did not complete the Breaking process, Gottfried must have finally realized that he does not intend to. We could perhaps call this a declaration of war from the Crypt."

Murata glanced sharply at his companion. "You told me you've managed to hide Lord von Bielefeld's location from the Crypt."

That smile again. Shinou looked at him askance. "I have. It took a lot of skill, mind you, but I have cause to be proud of my handiwork. Gottfried himself had failed to discover the boy's current location."

"And the thingyou were supposed to be preparing for before we tell Shibuya the truth? What about _that_?"

"My dear sage," he was answered with a long-suffering sigh, "why do you think do I feel so tired?"

Murata bit back a retort. Shinou _did _look terribly drained, like he was about to collapse any moment soon. He felt a twinge of guilt for sounding so severe, but the feeling that something was wrong kept a persistent prickle of unease inside his chest.

"There's something you're not telling me," he said, looking his companion straight in the eyes. "What is it?"

"Eh?" Shinou said in feigned innocence. "What could that be, I wonder?"

Annoyed, Murata glared at his companion. Shinou was one of the few who could easily make him lose his composure. He couldn't pinpoint the exact cause of his discomfiture, but he was willing to bet his life that it had more to do with what Shinou was _not _telling him, rather than what the latter had just divulged. But unable to think of anything, he gazed back at the corpse before them.

"You described this assassin as some sort of 'creature,' but what exactly are we dealing with?"

"Ah, that is a very good question. Most unfortunately, I do not have sufficient information to give you an accurate answer."

"Then I'd settle for something less than accurate, if that's what you could give me, oh Great One," said Murata tartly.

"I would," Shinou parried without even batting an eyelash. "If only we have time."

That was it. Murata felt himself snapping. He was used to Shinou's secrets. He was, after all, privy to a good number of them. In all fairness, Murata knew that Shinou meant well – most of the time at least. He just couldn't deal with any more secrets right now, especially of the kind that Shinou was wont to conceal, the kind that could and would ruin lives. His life, included.

"You…you never change!" he blurted out before he could stop himself. "Why can't you stop being so selfish and self-absorbed for once and tell me what I need to know, you idiot?!"

He wanted to take the words out as soon as they left his mouth, but it was already too late. Shinou grimaced, but otherwise maintained a respectable face. Murata quickly deflated. He didn't know what came over him. He wasn't prone to such emotional outbursts, but he must have been much more troubled by everything that was happening around him than he cared to admit. Flaring up like that wasn't his usual sort of thing.

"I…I'm sorry," he muttered into the awkwardness that followed. "I…I'm just…" He trailed off, not knowing how to complete that statement. He was exhausted. He was afraid of what the Crypt might do, of what they had already done. He was angry at his incapacity to do anything to stop it. He was frustrated that all he could do for weeks now was wait. Murata was tired of waiting.

He knew that it wasn't fair to take out his frustrations on Shinou, but a small, nasty voice inside him was whispering that it _was_ the Original King who started this mess. Sometimes, Murata thought that he really _hated _Shinou. Hated him as much as his past selves had loved him.

Murata shook his head in remorse and avoided Shinou's gaze, but the deity drew nearer and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, willing him to look up.

"Fair enough," Shinou said calmly. "But aren't you being so self-absorbed yourself?"

"What?"

Shinou's grip on his shoulder tightened. "You still did not notice, huh? This is so unlike you."

Murata blinked in confusion. Notice what? What did he miss?

"Look around you," Shinou whispered.

Murata obeyed and the details he hadn't bothered to focus on before popped out of the scene around them. The pavement, the lamppost, the surrounding buildings… He had to pummel himself mentally for not registering any of this information earlier.

The man – this creature, this assassin – was on _Earth_. A street sign in the distance indicated further that the enemy was _in their town._

"You see?" Shinou went on. "I do not have time to explain what he is, but you need only remember that he is dangerous. _Very_ dangerous. And he is here. You understand why he is here?"

It was like a fog was lifted from his mind, enabling him to think more clearly. Murata recited mechanically, almost like a student responding to a question during an oral exams, "He couldn't get to Lord von Bielefeld on his own, so he must be searching for someone who could lead him to his prey…"

"Excellent," said Shinou, leaning conspiratorially towards him. "I could not sense where he is right now. I do not know what he looks like, or what he would do next. I am not even sure if he came alone, or if he was accompanied by Gottfried's agents, but you must assume the worst. Lord von Bielefeld is not the only one in danger. You are all at risk too."

Murata's heart was racing. He thought he had prepared himself for this, but it would appear that he was still ill-equipped to go through another crisis. The events of the past months had been harrowing enough. Why wouldn't the problems stop?

"Ironic, isn't it?" Shinou's amused voice reclaimed his attention. "I thought I had everything in control, but then Gottfried did this…" He chuckled to himself. "I have thoroughly underestimated the enemy."

Murata scowled in reproach. "This isn't a laughing matter, Shinou."

"I know," Shinou said, regarding him fondly. "But I have precious few things to be cheerful about as of late. I appeared to have earned the ire of nearly everyone in the planet – alive, dead, or otherwise. That is why…" His blue eyes burned with unusual intensity, "…you have to trust me, because I will _never_ lie to you again."

The declaration took him by surprise. Murata met Shinou's eyes and realized for the first time that they were standing too close for comfort. Shinou's hand was still on his shoulder, but as Murata became aware of its presence, the limb wandered up his neck, coming to rest upon his cheek.

It seemed like he wasn't the only one who was acting out of character today, Murata mused. True, Shinou could be so frivolous at times, and he certainly liked to tease his "dear sage," but Murata could not remember an instance when the king had come this close to actually expressing his true feelings. At least not in this lifetime.

"Shinou…?"

"You would not be able to forgive me if I did, right?"

"Huh?" He had no idea where this was heading. He couldn't figure out what was causing Shinou to behave this way.

"I know you wouldn't," Shinou went on. "I could endure having everyone hate me, but I could not take it if you…if you too…"

He fumbled for words, a very rare occurrence that Murata would have commented on in any other situation. But as it were, he was feeling a tad too self-conscious himself to remark upon his companion's behavior. He waited for more, but the promising sentence merely faded into a wistful sigh. Murata could feel Shinou's breath against his face, and it was all he could do to refrain from reaching for him in return. He stopped himself just in time to remember that these feelings weren't his. They belonged to the Great Sage, not to him.

Shinou must have sensed his thoughts, for he took his hand away and withdrew.

"Uh…I…" Should he apologize? Murata asked himself. Should he tell him that – for a variety of reasons – he was wary of returning his feelings? But it was awkward to do so. It was not as if Shinou had actually confessed _anything_. He was jumping much too quickly to conclusions. "I…"

Shinou smiled and cut him short. "Think nothing of it. I am just feeling sentimental for some reason."

"But…"

"I have to leave," Shinou interrupted briskly. "I just came to warn you, so be very careful. Everyone is in danger." Murata opened his mouth to respond, but Shinou interposed before he could get any word out. "Warn the brothers. Tell the Earth Maou that we shall implement the plan as discussed. And as for the other Maou…you may already tell him what he needs to know."

Murata's eyes widened at the last words. He wanted to ask whether Shinou was serious, but he found that he couldn't speak. He tried for a second time, but something seemed to be obstructing his mouth, pressing down so tightly that it was starting to hurt. He tried to lift his hands but even his limbs seemed too heavy, as though they were made of lead. Confused and slightly worried at what was happening, Murata turned a questioning gaze to Shinou, but when he looked back, the deity was no longer there. In fact, he was no longer in the streets.

He was back in his bedroom.

And – much to his apprehension – he wasn't alone.

* * *

><p><em>Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment, little souls who thirst for fight…<em>

Yuuri reread the verse, squeezing one last ounce of understanding from his nearly shriveled-up brain. For a thoroughly blank moment, he couldn't even recall what he was supposed to do with the words. And then the moment passed and the test's instructions returned to him – _Translate and explain._

He proceeded to the next line – _These men were born to drill and die – _and was once again beset with confusion. He shook his head, hoping to rid himself of various irrelevant thoughts, but he merely succeeded in catching the teacher's attention.

"Is there a problem, Shibuya-kun?"

Yuuri shook his head again, this time to indicate denial. Giggles rose from all around him. His classmates obviously found his distracted state entertaining. Blushing, Yuuri returned to his questionnaire.

_The unexplained glory flies above them. Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom – a field where a thousand corpses lie._

It was useless. He couldn't concentrate. Not when his mind was on something else entirely, particularly on that small piece of paper that bore Gwendal's letter. Yuuri had read and reread the letter for so many times now that the contents were permanently etched into his memory. His irritation with the man hadn't faded one bit, and it wasn't helping him focus on his test right now. If he could only make time fly faster, he would have already done so just so he could get back to Shin Makoku.

Yuuri closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself not to think of his alternate role or his other world. Right now, he reminded himself, he was a regular high school student who needed to salvage his dismal academic records by passing this test, not the ruler of a demon tribe who needed to return quickly to his kingdom before the paperwork piled up to another level. He wouldn't be surprised if the heap reached the ceiling by now. There was just so much going on and so much left to do—

_'What am I thinking?'_ Yuuri silently berated himself before going back to the item at hand. He was being asked to translate and explain in detail the meaning of the verse. Yuuri glanced at his teacher surreptitiously. Could he have made the exam any more excruciating? _The unexplained glory flies above them._ What the heck did that mean?

Unbidden, Murata's voice echoed in his ears. _"It's pretty simple Shibuya…" _

Temper flaring, Yuuri jabbed his pencil at the paper. Murata would definitely ace the exams, given his ability to unearth several hidden meanings in any question or statement. Perhaps it was in his nature as a sage. It was, after all, his business to know things. He chanced half a glance towards Murata's chair, instinctively looking for someone whom he knew wouldn't be there. Murata hadn't come to class for days now.

_'So he's even willing to miss an important test just to avoid me, huh?' _Yuuri thought bitterly. Whatever the sage wasn't telling him must be something big then, something that would probably make Yuuri so angry. It was the only explanation he could think of, for both Shori and Murata to act so stealthily. But if this were the case, Yuuri felt that he'd rather know what it was and get it over with. He was half-afraid at what the truth might turn out to be, but that was way better than all these secrecy. Everything was just driving him crazy.

Yuuri forced his attention back to his paper. He had only a few minutes left to complete the test and this was the very last item. With a sigh, he started to scribble down a response, referring back to the questionnaire for the next lines.

_Swift blazing flag of the regiment, eagle with crest of red and gold. These men were born to drill and die, point for them the virtue of slaughter…_

The virtue of slaughter.

His pencil hovered uncertainly over the paper. Having had first-hand experience on the horrors that war could bring, the verse left a rather heavy feeling inside his chest. Once again, an image of a corpse-littered field flashed through his head, and he shivered involuntarily. These flashbacks from the battle with Ryuu's army had become part of his day-to-day living, and he had almost learned to deal with them. Almost. If these memories would only just stop surfacing while he was awake…

Yuuri rubbed his eyes tiredly. The battle with Ryuu had confirmed what he feared all along, what the white-haired man had once taunted him about – that he wasn't fit to be a king. And how could he ever be, when he hated battles? When he hated fighting? When sometimes, he even hated being a king?

Yuuri bit his lip, distracted once again. Wars were stupid. There was no glory in the battlefield. There was absolutely no virtue in killing another person. He should know it better than most of the people in the room, and yet he couldn't put his thoughts into words. It was so ironic that he couldn't even use that distressing experience to pass his test.

"Time is up," the teacher called out, startling Yuuri from his preoccupation. "Pass your papers please."

There were a few seconds of slight commotion as everyone did as they were told. Yuuri stared back at his questionnaire, noting that he hadn't written anything substantial, but he didn't have the energy left to wrack his brain for anything to add. He suspected that he wouldn't even get a point for this one, but he was past the point of caring.

The bell rang a moment later, and everyone started to pack their things. Above the combined sounds of chairs scraping against the floor and of students chatting to one another, Yuuri heard the teacher's voice:

"Shibuya-kun, please stay behind."

It was embarrassing. The other students stopped talking for the space of one or two seconds, their curious eyes moving from Yuuri to the teacher. Then they started jabbering once more, the topic shifting from the content of the exams to Yuuri himself. It irked Yuuri that they didn't even bother to keep their voices down. He shut them all away, although even without listening in, he knew what they were all whispering about.

Him. Or more specifically, Wolfram and him.

Nearly a month had passed since the entire school found out about his relationship with Wolfram, but the gossips never seemed to fade away. They just dwindled down into a near-tolerable frequency, but not nearly enough to allow Yuuri to return to his usual status of anonymity. He should have expected as much, given that he flaunted in front of half the school population that he was in love with another guy, but still…

Deciding to be upfront about his involvement with Wolfram had been a huge risk, and Yuuri knew when he did it that life in school would be different from before. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

It was like starting high school all over again. Although he didn't have that many friends before, at least he was on speaking terms with everyone in his year. Now, his social circle had diminished to include the meager few who accepted his and Wolfram's relationship without reservations. Murata was of course one of them, but since he was rarely around anymore, Yuuri was thankful that he still had one person to talk to at school – Sawada Reiko.

At least one good thing came out of all the disorder of the past weeks, Yuuri thought. He now had Reiko for a friend, and he couldn't be any more grateful for the girl's companionship. It had certainly taken the sting out of being considered an outcast by most of his classmates.

Yuuri frowned at himself. Faced with this much distaste from a lot of people around him, he began to wonder whether letting everyone know that he was involved with someone of the same sex was a wise thing to do. It had seemed so right back then, in the heat of that crucial moment when he felt he had to do something to prove himself to his fiancé – but now that he had to deal with the outcomes of his action, he guessed that it might not have been the most prudent thing to do. Yuuri wondered what everyone would say if they find out that he was about to get married to the same guy too.

He felt guilty as soon as that thought crossed his mind. If Wolfram ever caught wind that he was having these regrets about their relationship, he might dump him on the spot and never return. That quickly sobered him down, like he'd been doused with cold water, and he straightened his shoulders in determination. He couldn't allow the opinions of those around him to influence his feelings. After everything they'd gone through, especially after what happened these past months, he couldn't give up on Wolfram now—

Yuuri froze. He'd taken a step towards the teacher's table when something caught his eye from outside the window. Someone was standing by the gate, looking up towards his direction. Yuuri registered the vision in utter disbelief. Medium built. Blond hair.

_Wolfram._

The name nearly slipped out of his lips, but before it could do so, he blinked and the space by the entrance was empty. No one was there. His entire body seemed to grow colder. What was that? Did he really see that? Did he see him?

"Shibuya-kun?"

Yuuri reluctantly pulled his eyes away from the window. "Ah…I'm sorry sir."

He must be seeing things, Yuuri decided. He couldn't have seen him. Wolfram couldn't be here. Shaking his head once, Yuuri made his way towards the front, raising his eyebrow at a group of girls who were dawdling by the door, perhaps exchanging more unflattering gossips about him. What did they care about his life anyway? They didn't know a single thing about him, about who he was and what he had to deal with. Not for the first time, Yuuri felt so out of place amidst his peers. Already, he felt so…so…_old_. Like he'd already lived an entire lifetime as compared to everybody else in the school.

Yuuri reached the teacher's table and braced himself for interrogation of the man behind the desk. The teacher smiled tentatively, waiting for the other students to leave the room before saying, "So Shibuya-kun…"

Yuuri cringed at the man's tone, somehow guessing what would come next.

"These past weeks must be hell for you…"

Ah, that again. Yes, his attendance had been erratic. Yes, his grades had gone down faster than a crashing airplane. And yes, he was having a romantic relationship with another guy. Yuuri wasn't completely oblivious to school rumors anymore, especially since he'd become one of the primary topics of interest. The current consensus about him was that his controversial love life was causing the deterioration of his school performance.

"I'm fine, sir," he said after a moment, peeved at the man's unsolicited concern, slightly irritated at being called out like this with the other students watching.

His teacher seemed embarrassed, but he pushed on, not even bothering to keep his voice down. "Er…yes…but you see, your grades for this term—"

Yuuri didn't allow the man to finish. "I'm fine, sir. I just had a very bad month." He added silently, _'I just led an army to battle, fought another man to the death, and buried a lot of people. Give me a break, will you?'_

"Okay…er…I also heard that you have a…boyfriend?"

The word sounded wrong, perhaps because he could hear a hint of disapproval in the man's tone. Yuuri frowned, wondering whether the other teachers had also been discussing this in the safety of the faculty lounge. He was about to reply when his eyes strayed once more outside the window. A blond someone was again standing by the gate, looking up at him.

Yuuri didn't even dare blink. He stared, and the figure seemed to gaze back. He even seemed to be smiling, although from that distance, Yuuri couldn't tell for sure. There was something so strange about his face…

_Wolfram?_

"Oi, Shibuya-kun." The teacher leaned forward to wave a hand in front of his face. The figure by the gate disappeared once again. Yuuri regarded his teacher in annoyance.

"What?"

"I just asked you a question," the man reminded. "About your bo—"

"That has no relation to my grades," Yuuri said sharply, then noting the offended look in his teacher's face, he added quickly, "…sir."

The man seemed surprised at his rudeness. "Do your parents know about this?"

"About my grades?" Yuuri shot back, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "Of course. Didn't you send a letter informing them just last week?"

His teacher twiddled his thumbs uncomfortably. "No…about your…"

"Boyfriend?" Yuuri supplied, arching one eyebrow. He felt rebellious all of a sudden, and he replied defiantly, "My parents have already met him, if you must know. And they approve."

"Oh."

The look of surprise on the man's face was very comical that Yuuri had to fight down a gloating smile. Whatever else the man may have been expecting, it certainly wasn't this. Yuuri strived to keep a straight face. "Would that be all, sir?"

The man opened his mouth, as if to say something, but he seemed to think better of it and just let the matter drop. He said instead, "Murata-kun has been missing a lot of classes lately. Do you have any idea what happened to him?"

Yuuri shrugged. "I don't. I'm sorry, sir."

The man looked like he didn't believe him, but he nodded just the same. "If you see him, tell him that I need to talk to him too, okay?"

"I will," Yuuri replied, though he knew that he was most likely going to be unsuccessful. Murata had been doing an excellent job of avoiding him so far. He said before the man could ask for something else, "Goodbye…sir."

He gave his teacher a forced smile and hurried towards the door. Groups of students were still loitering about, but Yuuri paid them no attention. He rushed past them, having no desire to subject himself to their stares and comments. He broke into a run as soon as he got out of the building, wanting nothing more in the world than to get to the school gates and confirm what he'd seen earlier. That blond boy…could it be him? There couldn't be very many blonds in their town, right?

Heart pounding, Yuuri raced down the steps, reaching his destination in no time. He made a full turn, but to his confusion and disappointment, there was no one there.

He was alone.

* * *

><p>He wasn't alone. Murata could feel it.<p>

He realized that his dream was over and that he must already be on the cusps of consciousness. He took a deep breath, shut his eyes tightly for a moment, before slowly opening them again. The ceiling came into sharp focus. He was in bed. At least he could feel himself lying with his back against the mattress, and he could see certain portions of his bedroom from his peripheral vision, but why couldn't he move? He couldn't even turn his head. Was he really awake?

"Stay still."

Murata jerked back in surprise. The words came from somewhere close by, from someone that he knew for certain had no business being inside his bedroom. The voice seemed to be emanating from right above him, although he couldn't see anyone. Murata tried to speak, but his lips wouldn't move. A second later, he realized why.

The air above him flickered, and a figure slowly materialized into view. The intruder was straddling him, one hand clamped tightly over his mouth, and the other pressed hard against his chest. Whoever it was must have snuck in while Murata was asleep, dreaming of Shinou and the deserted street, with the mutilated body that the assassin had just abandoned—

His heart stopped for a moment and his eyes grew wide with alarm. The assassin! Could it be…? Murata studied his assailant as he mulled over this possibility.

The intruder in question was of a significantly smaller built, and judging from the voice he'd heard earlier, Murata was pretty sure – although he couldn't see a face – that his assailant was a female. Murata knew he could outmaneuver her if it were only a matter of physical strength, but something more sinister seemed to be at play. His body still wouldn't budge an inch no matter how hard he tried. He wasn't tied down as far as he could tell, but for some reason, his body had ceased responding to any command to move.

This intruder…this girl…must be behind his immobility. She…wasn't human. What _was_ she?

A part of Shinou's warning came back to him – _"I am not sure if he came alone, but you must assume the worst._" – and his breath hitched in his throat. At the same time, he noticed what the girl was wearing – a red cloak trimmed with silver – and he quickly discarded the likelihood that this was the assassin Shinou had warned him about. He knew enough to recognize what she was – a Soul Keeper.

Murata wondered wryly whether it was time to panic.

"He is right, you know," the Keeper said in a low voice. "You have to be careful."

Murata's head whirled with a million different questions. What did the Keeper know? Did she know that Shinou had appeared to him, warning him of this exact scenario? Were there more, or was he the only one the Crypt had decided to attack? Would she go after the others when she was done with him, or had she already attacked them? Where was Shibuya? The Crypt's assassin was on Earth. Had he gone after him instead?

No, this didn't feel right. If getting to Lord von Bielefeld was the goal, it would indeed be more logical for them to attack Shibuya first. But Shibuya knew nothing. It was partly the reason why they kept him ignorant of what was going on. It was Shori who knew about Shinou's plans. It was Shori who knew as much as he did…

The Keeper made a derisive sound, and she leaned down. A strand of blond hair fell against Murata's nose, tickling his cheek. Beneath the hood, he saw a series of bold scarlet lines that formed the outlines of a face – large slits for eyes, a narrow nose, eyebrows that swept up to her forehead, and a wide, ruby mouth posed into a baleful smile. A mask, Murata belatedly realized. How on earth could she see and breathe through that thing?

"I see," the Keeper whispered, "so it's Shori huh?

Murata frowned. Was she reading his mind? Did she know everything? But it was impossible. He couldn't allow this to happen. He couldn't allow them to win. He had to move, had to break free, had to warn the others. Shinou was relying on him to alert Shibuya…

"Shibuya…" the Keeper echoed aloud. "He really doesn't know anything…?"

Murata forced himself to calm down despite the fact that he knew he was definitely in trouble. If the Keeper could indeed read minds, then the odds were completely not in his favor. For someone who relied heavily on his mental prowess to get through life-and-death situations, it wasn't easy for him to just stop thinking. The Crypt had sent him the perfect adversary.

Drawing all the strength he had left, Murata tried, once more, to break free, but the Keeper shoved him down with laughable ease.

"I told you to stay still," she said softly as she caressed the side of his face.

The order was the last thing Murata heard before everything dissolved into complete darkness.

* * *

><p>Yuuri was alone – but not for long.<p>

"Shibuya-kun! Wait up!"

He gave a start and glanced back at the school building, where he found Reiko running towards him, waving a hand in greeting.

"S-Sawada-san?" Thankful as he was for the girl's friendship and unexpected support, Yuuri could only look at her with mounting impatience. Her timing was bad indeed.

Reiko smiled pleasantly. "Are you going home now? We could go together."

Bad timing, Yuuri repeated inside his head as he struggled to come up with a suitable excuse. "Er…no thanks…I have something to do…"

"Right now? Hey, are you okay? You look—"

"I'm fine. I just—"

He broke off abruptly and whipped around. Somehow, he had a feeling that he was being watched, but when he turned, there was nobody there. His sudden movement surprised Reiko, who gaped at him with mixed alarm and anxiety.

"Shibuya-kun?" Reiko breathed. "You don't look too well."

_'The hell I don't_,' Yuuri thought, breathing deeply. He was tired. His mind must already be playing tricks on him. He looked around him once more for good measure. Empty. Nothing. No sign of the blond he'd seen from the window – if there ever was one in the first place.

"Shibuya-kun?"

Yuuri's shoulders sagged. He must be imagining things. Wolfram couldn't be here. Nobody was watching him. He was just…tired. He sighed, not knowing what to think anymore, and gave Reiko a rueful smile. "I'm sorry. I was…"

"I think I should really walk home with you," Reiko said, taking a firm hold of his elbow and leading him away. "You shouldn't be stressing yourself, you know? You don't even look like you've slept at all."

Yuuri followed meekly, all the burst of energy gone from his body. That was true. But how could he even sleep when each time he closed his eyes, all he could see were lurid images of the battlefield or disjointed scenes that he couldn't even make sense of?

"What were you running away from anyway?" Reiko went on, as she guided him away from the gate.

"Not running away exactly," Yuuri answered. "It's just that…I…" He couldn't even summon the will to lie. "I…thought I saw someone…"

"Someone?"

"Yeah."

Reiko regarded him curiously from the corner of her eyes. "Who?"

"It's stupid," Yuuri said, "He couldn't be here. He's…away…"

"Who?" Reiko persisted.

"Wolfram."

The girl perked up. "You saw him here?"

"By the gate," Yuuri said, gesturing with his head. "Or I thought I did. He isn't here."

"Oh." Reiko subsided into silence, and Yuuri did nothing to restart the conversation. They trudged on wordlessly for a few minutes, before Reiko broke the stillness by remarking, "You must miss him."

Every day, Yuuri thought. He wondered how Wolfram was doing it, considering the time differences between their worlds, and not for the first time, he felt a sting of resentment at the idea that Wolfram wasn't missing him as much as Yuuri did. How could Wolfram stand it? How could he even have the nerve to disappear like that? How could he be such a selfish brat?

"Shibuya-kun?"

Yuuri clenched his fists and firmly released himself from Reiko's grasp. Enough of this. He'd wasted enough time worrying and wondering about Murata, Shori, Shinou, and Wolfram's behaviors. If his brother and the sage wouldn't tell him the truth, he'd just have to go directly to Shinou. Should the Original King refuse to do the same, he'd just have to overpower him into submission. If Wolfram wasn't going to contact him at all, then he'd just have to find him and bring him back. Everything was just as simple as tha—

Yuuri's ears pricked up. That feeling that he was being watched returned, stronger and more persistent than before. Was someone there? He glanced over his shoulder to make sure, but what he saw made him stop completely on his tracks.

There was a tree just around the bend, and perched on top of a particularly large branch was the guy Yuuri had seen earlier. He froze. The guy _was_ blond – at least Yuuri could see fringes of gold running along his ears down to his chin. As Yuuri stared, he realized why the guy's face looked strange from a distance – he was wearing a mask. It was odd. The mask was white, save for a few swirling lines made from silver paint that defined the facial features. Two blank circles for the eyes. A painted nose. A long upward arc for the mouth that eventually curved into a sinister smile. The figure was clad in a red cloak lined with a strip of something shiny. Silver?

Yuuri blanched at this sight. For some reason, the guy made him nervous. Yuuri had felt this before…this aura that the guy was giving off…it felt so familiar. When he finally remembered where he'd encountered this feeling before, he tensed up and took a cautious step back.

The entire atmosphere around the guy reminded Yuuri of one person – Ryuu. This aura was coming from someone who had such a strong intent to kill. A murderer. How did he even mistake this guy for his fiancé? This wasn't Wolfram. This was an enemy. He couldn't say how he knew that, but he was sure of it.

"What's wrong?" Reiko asked, tugging at his hand. "Shibu—"

"I'm sorry, Sawada-san," he said without taking his eyes off the guy in the tree. "Please go ahead."

"Huh? But—"

"Go! Please!"

Reiko hesitated. "What? Why?"

"GO!" Yuuri yelled in panic. There was a slight movement from the tree, and in the next instant, the masked guy was swopping down upon them, soaring weightlessly over their heads before landing with a light thud just a step behind them. Yuuri followed him with his eyes, but Reiko seemed oblivious to the guy's presence. Yuuri had a feeling that only he could see the stranger.

Reiko looked anxious. "What is it? Is there something wrong?"

With a huge effort, Yuuri swiveled around to face the stranger. Up close, the guy looked and felt more menacing. Yuuri fought down a shudder. Instinct was telling him to run, but once he'd stopped moving, he felt stuck to the same spot. It took an enormous amount of energy just to move his mouth to issue another warning.

"S-Sawada-san…listen, you really need to leave me alone…"

"But—"

"PLEASE!" Yuuri managed to roar out in frustration. Reiko stared at him, wide-eyed, hand clasped over her mouth in shock. She didn't speak. In fact, she had already stopped moving, as though she, too, was frozen in place. Yuuri called out her name, but when she didn't respond, he turned to the masked guy and demanded, "You…what have you done to her?"

Yuuri couldn't see his face, but he had the impression that the guy was regarding him appreciatively.

"Ah, you could still move," the stranger said in a clipped tone. "You seem much more alert and powerful than the other one. My partner said that he took him down in less than a minute." The guy approached him leisurely. "Although my partner did have an advantage: her prey was still half-asleep when she struck."

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. "The other one?"

The stranger laughed, ignoring his question. "Well, someone had to go first. You're lucky that you're next. At least you don't have to worry about your other friends…especially about that fire Mazoku…" He took another step closer. "What was his name? Wolfram von Bielefeld?"

The mention of his fiancé's name threw Yuuri off for a second. He'd been holding onto the slim hope that everything was just a prank – a distasteful and maddening one perhaps, but nothing more than a joke. But the mention of Wolfram's full name – something that he couldn't remember telling anyone aside from Reiko – heightened his fears that it wasn't so. This was real. This was serious.

Yuuri tried to move away, but his body wouldn't obey his will. He asked, voice shaking, "Y-you know where Wolfram is…?"

"Not quite," the guy answered. "At any rate, it doesn't matter. I'm sure he is slowly wasting away somewhere. You'd have to thank me, _Maou-Heika_." He uttered the last word in disgust. "You won't have to watch him die."

"W-what?"

"No one told you anything?" The stranger's voice was laced with amusement. "How cruel of them. You must be so confused. But well, what do humans usually say? Ignorance is bliss."

Yuuri's entire body shook with the effort to respond. "W-what are you saying? W-who _are_ you?"

The guy cocked his head. "It doesn't matter now, does it? What do these things mean anyway to someone who is about to die?" The stranger raised his arm, palms towards Yuuri. "But if you really must know who I am, Maou-Heika, well…"

It was sudden. The guy clenched his fists tightly, and at the same instant, a sharp, crippling pain struck Yuuri out of nowhere. He gasped. He couldn't breathe. It was like a hand had clenched around his heart and stopped it from beating.

The stranger finished without emotion, "…I am the person who will kill you."

The pain intensified a thousand fold, like scorching fire and numbing cold seeping into his bones at the same time. The force that was stopping his movements disappeared, but his freedom was now useless. Yuuri fell to his knees.

"Goodbye Heika," the stranger intoned.

Yuuri felt a crushing power around his chest. He threw his head back and screamed in agony.

* * *

><p>"Shori? Are you listening?"<p>

Shori gave a start, tearing his eyes away from the document in front of him to glance at the man at the opposite end of the conference table. Mr. Yamamoto looked at him with displeasure.

"I'm sorry," Shori said. "I…was thinking of something else."

Of course it wasn't really it, but it wasn't as if he could tell his business associate the truth. It was just that something…he felt something just now…like a premonition… It felt like someone he knew was in danger. And to add to his discomfort, Murata had been out of reach since this morning. He wished that the sage had a good reason – maybe he had to do another errand for Shinou or something – but something just felt so…_wrong_.

"Are you sure you can handle this?" Mr. Yamamoto asked dubiously, regarding him with a critical eye. "The Chinese consul will be here in a few days, and he expects us to have an answer by then. Bob has always dined with him and I suggest—"

"Bob is no longer here," Shori muttered under his breath. How long was it since his mentor died? A month? Definitely not long enough for any of Bob's underlings to accept the fact that the business tycoon they had known and served loyally for years would never return, and that the said tycoon had bequeathed all his properties, shares, and responsibilities to his twenty-something apprentice.

Bob's employees and partners found the transition suspicious at the least, and illegal at the most. Although Shori was introduced to them as a possible successor, they had perhaps not expected that the turn-over would happen _this _quickly, _this_ early. Shori privately thought that it was unfair to question his ascent to the top of the company's chain of command, as he himself hadn't expected – much less, wanted – to be in this position right now. If everyone only knew that he'd give up everything in the world just to have Bob back. Just to have his old life back.

"I don't see any need to meet with the consul, Yamamoto-san," Shori said after a beat. "But I _will_ call him when I get the chance."

Mr. Yamamoto pursed his lips together. He was a stumpy man with a rather stern countenance, and he was one of the many who obviously resented having a much younger man for a boss. "With all due respect, are you sure you know what you're doing? Shori—"

"I already read the proposal – every damned word of it," Shori answered testily. Hours of business meetings had worn his patience thin by now, and between worrying why Murata hadn't responded to his calls and whether Shinou had anything new for them, the visit of this foreign bigwig was the farthest thing on his mind. "I don't buy any of it, so right now, I'm going to take all the time I need to figure out how to tell that pompous bastard that I don't want to deal with him. Do you understand that?"

The other man bristled with anger. "Bob would never—"

"Bob is no longer here," Shori repeated harshly.

Mr. Yamamoto's lips curled with disgust. "So you're the boss now, aren't you? Well if that's how you want it…"

"Yes, it is. So if you don't have anything else for me, please leave."

Mr. Yamamoto narrowed his eyes, but before he could respond, there was a knock on the door and Bob's – now Shori's – secretary peered in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Shibuya-san," she said hesitantly, sensing the tension in the atmosphere, "but you have a visitor. It's…Murata Ken-san."

Murata. So he had finally decided to show his face. Shori tensed. He had a strong feeling that something was about to go wrong. He turned to Mr. Yamamoto. "I'm afraid I must really ask you to leave."

The man sneered at him, gathered his things and shoved them haphazardly inside his brief case. "If you wish. I'll leave you to it then…_boss_."

Shori restrained himself from retorting. Instead, he watched the man leave without a word, perking up when Murata was finally ushered in.

"What's going on?" Shori asked as soon as the door closed behind the departing secretary, "Did you hear from Shinou?" Murata's face was blank, his eyes glassy. He didn't respond. "Oi, are you okay?"

"You know everything, don't you?"

Shori felt the hairs at the back of his neck rising with unexplained horror. Somebody else had spoken, although he couldn't see who it was. The voice had come from somewhere close to Murata, but Shori couldn't see anyone. He stood up, torn between approaching the sage or keeping his distance from him. In the end, he settled by addressing Murata directly.

"What's going on?"

Murata's expression didn't change, and the disembodied voice answered for him.

"Knowing too much could be dangerous."

Shori recoiled in surprise. The air behind Murata flickered, like he was seeing through smoke, and Shori saw that they were no longer alone. A cloaked somebody – a girl, he realized – was standing behind the sage, face concealed behind a mask, tresses of blonde hair spilling out of her hood.

The girl vanished and reappeared a millisecond later right in front of his eyes. Shori stumbled back, cursing, evading the hand that reached for him by mere inches. He didn't see her move, but he _felt _her all the same. Her speed was unbelievable. She _couldn't_ be human.

He leapt away as the girl lunged after him for a second time, noticing what Murata had seen earlier – the red cloak lined with silver – and he immediately came to the same conclusion. A Soul Keeper. An agent of the Crypt of Souls.

Shori gritted his teeth. What on earth was happening? Weren't Soul Keepers forbidden to interfere directly with human affairs? Shinou had assured them that the Crypt wouldn't break the rules, but why had it resulted to this? Where was Shinou? Did this mean that their plans were compromised? And Murata…what was wrong with Murata?

"Oi, Murata!" he called out, half-worried, half-annoyed. "How long are you going to stand there?!"

"He couldn't hear you," the Keeper answered. "But if you'd like him to move…" – she gestured with her hand and the sage stepped forward – "…then I would be happy to oblige…"

At the last word, Murata dashed forward. Shori readied himself for an attack, hoping to be able to pin the sage down if he came near enough and – well, he had no idea – maybe shake him out of whatever trance he had fallen into? But before he could act on it, something unexpected derailed his plan. Murata stopped a few meters away and stared impassively at him. Shori wavered, unable to decide whether to wait or approach the sage, knowing that the Keeper was waiting in the wings, ready to attack the very minute Shori dropped his guard. Shori opted to wait, keeping both Murata and the girl within his field of vision.

As if sensing what he had in mind, the Keeper said pleasantly, "Well, if you won't come to us…"

She trailed off suggestively, and at the same time, Murata raised his hand. Shori turned just in time to see the glint of a revolver in between his palms before the first shot was fired. The deafening sound reverberated in Shori's ears, and as he scrambled to avoid being hit by the incoming bullet, the Keeper surged forward, blocking his escape.

Shori stumbled. There was a loud crack as the bullet lodged into the wall behind him. He turned, confused, not knowing where to run. Something ice-cold latched onto his arm, and he felt his body freezing, rendering him motionless in the next few seconds.

"W-what…?" he managed to gasp, but the words froze in his mouth as well. A moment later, he found that he could no longer make any sound.

"That was surprisingly easy," came the Keeper's satisfied voice. "Let's finish this then, shall we?" She snapped her fingers, and as if on cue, Murata stepped into view, armed and ready to kill. Shori could do nothing but stare in dismay as the sage raised the weapon once more, aiming at his heart.

Murata pulled the trigger.

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

_1. This chapter is long – as in looooooong – so I hope it would make up for my shameful speed in updating. _

_2. Sawada Reiko is an OC who was introduced in Soul Hunters. She is Yuuri's classmate, and the class representative of their section. In the beginning of the story, she was attacked by Ryuu and company when she overheard an important conversation that concerned Ryuu's identity. She lay in a coma for most part of the story, until she miraculously recovered – with (secret) help from Yuuri, who used his powers to heal her completely. She is very fond of Yuuri, and has actually attempted to pursue him, but she was disappointed when Yuuri confessed that he was already in love with somebody else. Upon seeing Yuuri and Wolfram together, she quickly deduced that the two were actually lovers. She professed her support for Yuuri's relationship with Wolfram._

_3. Excerpts of the poem included above were taken from "War is Kind" by Stephen Crane._

_4. Thanks to kerii-tan, Mona May56, helloseahorse, Amed, Rinoakim, Anja54, Naruxsasumi, and SangLeGuira for reviewing the previous chapter! A big thank you to those who took the time to review Soul Hunters (and my other stories, as well). I'm truly grateful to everyone for the comments – they do speed up the writing process, don't they? =)_


	4. Chapter 3: Scarlet and Silver

**Chapter 3: Scarlet and Silver**

* * *

><p><em>The thugs came out of nowhere and surrounded him completely, leaving practically no room for escape. Ryuu, however, had no intention of running away.<em>

_The thugs were clad in black overalls, with matching insignias embroidered on the collars of their shirts. The crest of the Souma clan, Ryuu recognized immediately. This should be interesting. _

_"Well, well, well." An extremely large man stepped out of the circle. With his grin and swagger, he looked like he could be the group's leader. "What have we got here?"_

_Ryuu met his gaze coolly, taking a brief moment to take stock of his opponents. Eight, he counted, including the giant who had just spoken. They weren't armed as far as Ryuu could see, although with their heavily-muscled bodies, they didn't really need to be. They all stood crunching their fists together, looking like a bunch of power-tripping fools who had gotten used to getting what they wanted by no more than brute force. _

_Ryuu marveled at his luck – or rather, his sheer lack of it. His walk back to Lombard Manor had suddenly led to him being cornered by this group from a rival clan. It wasn't entirely unusual. As a stranger in a place where people mostly knew one another by face, his presence had caused quite a stir among the populace. The Lombard clan – Frey's parents especially – were unusually accommodating, although Ryuu suspected that they were just happy to have somebody whom they could entrust Frey to. (Whether he intended to or not, Frey _was_ a magnet for trouble.) The members of the rival clans, however, came to regard him with a mixture of curiosity and hostility. Frey told him that the townspeople were generally unreceptive to strangers, especially to someone who had such odd features. _

_The large man whistled loudly, jerking Ryuu out of his thoughts. "Would you look at that! His eyes and hair are really white! Where'd all your color go, huh?"_

_Ryuu flicked his hair back with one hand, ignoring the comment and the chortles that went with it. He was used to people making such a big fuss over his face. Ryuu had warded off such persistent questions regarding his appearance for as long as he could remember. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable answering. It was just that the response was something that people would never be able to completely comprehend. How do you even explain to a mortal person that he was incomplete? A being whose very existence was a mere experiment? An accident? _

_"When I heard that the Lombards adopted a stray," the man went on with apparent delight, wrongfully taking Ryuu's silence as a sign of intimidation, "I never imagined that it'd be someone like you." He gave Ryuu an unflattering smirk. "So how does it feel like to be that damn brat's lapdog, huh?"_

_That damn brat._

_A vein ticked unpleasantly at the side of Ryuu's head. For some reason, the name-calling annoyed him more than the man's prior offensive statements, and the insult wasn't even directed at him. A strange feeling crept up his chest, and for the first time, he was compelled to act in Frey's defense._

_The men were still laughing when Ryuu made his move. In the next three seconds, the first man fell, a bruise emerging across his cheek, the unexpected blow rendering him unconscious even before he knew what had happened. Ryuu spun on his heels and took hold of the second man's collar, throwing him against the third and the fourth, watching as they all landed in a confused pile a distance away from the circle._

_"What the—?!" the large man exclaimed in surprise as half of his minions fell one after the other. The rest still seemed unaware that Ryuu had already started to attack. _

'Slow,' _Ryuu thought. _'Too slow.'

_He unsheathed his sword and slammed the hilt against the fifth man's forehead, hitting him right on the spot between his eyes. He took down the sixth and seventh in the same manner, twisting swiftly on the spot, scoffing at their bewildered expressions as they started to fall. Finally, he turned to face the foul-mouthed man who had callously insulted his friend._

_The man looked incapable of forming real words at the moment. He stumbled back, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away from him. Ryuu regarded him with distaste, dark thoughts swirling inside his head as he contemplated an appropriate punishment._

_"W-wait!" the man finally managed to screech. "Don't you know who I am? I'm the heir of the Souma clan! You can't treat me like this—!" _

_"You know," Ryuu interrupted with a bored sigh, "do I look like I care?"_

_The man's eyes widened. "Wha…?"_

_At that point, Ryuu decided that he was done talking. Without even giving his movements much thought, he stepped forward and drove his sword's hilt deep into the man's chest. There was a loud crack of a rib breaking, and the man who identified himself as the heir of the Souma clan let out a cry of anguish and sank limply to the ground._

_Surveying his opponents a little while later, it suddenly occurred to Ryuu that he probably should have listened to the large man's ramblings after all. If he was who he said he was, then Ryuu had just deliberately strained the Lombards' relationship with the Souma clan. He felt a sliver of unease at this thought, and it took him a few seconds to realize that he was worried – worried that Frey might disapprove of what he had just done. Or, he might just laugh the entire thing off. Ryuu wouldn't know. Frey's reactions were almost always the opposite of what Ryuu was expecting. _

_A smile lifted the edges of his lips. He couldn't wait to go back to the manor and tell Frey about this encounter. It surprised him to realize that after just a few hours of not being able to see or talk to Frey, Ryuu had already missed him._

* * *

><p>Murata pulled the trigger.<p>

Shori braced himself for the impact, but to his relief, none came. Instead, he felt suddenly free, unfettered by that unseen force that had gripped his entire body a moment before. He found that he could already shift his body, as though the power that was keeping him to the spot had abruptly dissipated. Seizing the opportunity, Shori leapt away from his captor, and – taking no more chances of being captured again by the Keeper – he called forth his water dragons, twisting them around his body in a makeshift shield.

There was another shot, followed by two more. The smell of gunpowder assaulted his senses, and Shori once again braced himself for the imminent contact. To his consternation, none came. Warily, he sought the Keeper and Murata with his eyes, noting with some confusion that the two hadn't approached him at all. Instead, they were standing in the same spot, facing each other. Murata had the gun poised and ready, the barrel aimed at the Keeper's head. The Keeper's left arm hung uselessly to her side, upon which a small hole the size of a bullet had appeared. There was a similar wound on her calf, and two more on her forehead, creating a spidery pattern of cracks that spread down and across her creepy mask. As Shori watched, the girl's wounds closed in on themselves, leaving her body damage-free in the next few seconds. Her mask, however, shattered into several pieces, revealing a newly-unmarred face.

The Keeper lifted her head, and Shori tried very hard to suppress a shiver. In retrospect, he thought that she must have been beautiful, pretty much like a perfectly-crafted porcelain doll, with skin the color of alabaster, a small nose, and narrow lips. But when he saw the entirety of her face for the very first time, all Shori could register were her eyes. They were an unsettling crimson color, looking almost like someone had embedded two large pieces of blood-red stones right onto her tiny face.

"You," the Keeper hissed at Murata, eyes glowing malevolently, "how did you break free?"

Murata smiled, but the look in his eyes indicated that he was anything but amused. "You did tell me to stay still," he remarked dryly. "The fact that I followed your orders did not necessarily mean that your technique was successful. If memory serves me right, it's called soul binding, isn't it?"

The Keeper looked taken aback – Murata's knowledge of her ability was obviously unwelcome – but she quickly hid her surprise beneath a scornful expression. Murata's mouth quirked, ever so slightly, in triumph.

"So I'm right?" Murata took a step closer to the Keeper, gun raised. "It works in two steps, doesn't it? By implanting a very small portion of your own soul inside another being, you are able to temporarily suppress that being's soul, which in turn, enables you to assume control of the body."

"You seem to know a lot about it," said the Keeper. "As expected of a sage. But you did not answer my question – how did you ward it off? You could not have even detected that I did something with your soul without considerable training…"

Murata said nothing, but merely pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose.

"But ah," said the Keeper, eyes lighting up with comprehension, "you _had_ training…in one of your past lives. I have forgotten about your memories…"

The Keeper fell silent, seeming to take a moment to digest this turn of events. Then she returned Murata's gaze with a salacious grin. "So you have been pretending this entire time? What a deceitful creature you are. You had me fooled."

"Thank you," Murata answered after a protracted pause. He seemed to be scrutinizing the Keeper carefully. "You are pretty deceitful yourself, I think. So why don't you tell us the truth now? Who _are_ you? You did not come alone, did you?"

Shori's brain reeled painfully to catch up with what he was seeing and hearing. Murata hadn't fired at him after all – or did he just miss…? But no. Murata's demeanor suggested that he had complete control of his faculties. Even his eyes looked more…alive somehow, certainly not as dull as they had seemed earlier, when he'd entered the room. Rising to his feet, Shori glanced uncertainly at the sage, still a bit doubtful of the latter's motives. He hadn't discounted the possibility that everything was just an act – a trick.

Deciding that he couldn't take any more chances, Shori launched his water dragons towards the other occupants of the room. The rush of surging water filled his ears, followed by a thunderous splash as the creatures found their mark. Both Murata and the Keeper looked startled at this sudden attack, and this moment around, it was their turn to scuttle out of harm's way.

Murata turned to him, looking annoyed. "Shori!" he admonished loudly. "What are you doing?"

The girl soared away from the dragons' reach, landing nimbly at the edge of the conference table. She seemed quite unruffled, as she regarded Shori with renewed interest.

"There was no need for that, _Heika_," she said, emphasizing the last word. "We haven't forgotten about you."

Shori scowled. He dared not take his eyes off her, even as he addressed Murata, "You…are you really back?"

"I never really left, you know," said Murata, sounding like he meant it.

Shori's brow furrowed in disbelief. He couldn't decide whether it was really Murata he was talking to. He looked and sounded normal, but what if…?

"Shori, it _is_ me. Here," – Shori heard a distinct splash. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Murata drop his weapon, kicking it out of reach. – "You may restrain me if you want to."

Shori contemplated the offer, but decided against it in the end, remembering that the sage had had a chance to shoot him a while back, but had turned against the Keeper instead. Making up his mind, he sent another water dragon lurching across the room, towards the enemy, frowning when the girl evaded his attack without any difficulty. He gave Murata a fleeting look of censure, and grumbled, "You owe me an explanation."

Murata nodded tiredly. "I know."

"And you had me worried," Shori added, following the dodging Keeper with his eyes, "For a second there, I thought I might have to seriously hurt you."

"I'm glad it hasn't come to that just yet," said Murata, attempting a smile, which merely turned into a grimace. "But about her…be careful. She's—"

"Yes, I know. She's a Keeper, isn't she?" When Murata merely concurred with a nod, Shori continued, "Why is she here? Where _were_ you this morning? Did you talk to Shinou?"

A shadow passed over Murata's face at this barrage of questions. "It's a long story. But yes, I did talk to Shinou, and he said we're in trouble – that's about the gist of it. More importantly…" – he eyed the Keeper grimly – "we need to stop her – and quick."

"You don't need to tell me that," Shori replied, gritting his teeth in frustration.

The Keeper was still eluding capture, slipping out of the water dragons' grasp so easily that it appeared as though she was appearing and disappearing right in front of Shori's eyes. No matter what he did, the girl always seemed to be a step away from the creatures' reach. What was more maddening was that she didn't seem threatened at all. Outnumbered as she was, she showed no signs of fear, giving the feeling that she was still the one in control of the situation.

"Damn it," Shori muttered angrily when the Keeper once again managed to squeeze herself away from a tight corner. He noted grudgingly how graceful she seemed as she glided away from danger, as though she were made of nothing but air. "How is she doing it?"

"I think she could read minds," Murata said slowly. He had drawn nearer, although he showed no sign of joining the fray any moment soon. "At least that's the impression she gave me earlier."

"You could have told me sooner," Shori retorted. "So you think she's reading mine right now?"

At the same time that Murata answered with, "Perhaps", the Keeper grinned and said, "Yes." Shori regarded her skeptically. The Keeper laughed and went on, "Scared Heika?"

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Oh I wasn't suggesting anything of that sort," said the girl, springing into action, materializing right in front of Shori in the next instant. "I know what you are afraid of…"

Shori was prepared for it. He moved back in the nick of time, and the dragons returned to him, fangs bared at the Keeper. The girl, however, vanished before the creatures could touch her, reappearing at the far side of the room, unscathed.

"You fancy yourself to be the consummate human being," the Keeper said, as though they were just continuing a normal, uninterrupted conversation, "The obedient son, the doting brother, the honor student, the accomplished businessman, the invincible Earth Maou…but beneath all that, you're just a scared little boy, aren't you?"

"Shori," Murata warned in an undertone, "don't listen to her."

"Give me a little credit," Shori snapped, rallying his water dragons for another attempt to detain the girl. "As if I'd fall for something like this."

"Of course you won't," said the Keeper with a solicitous shake of the head. Her long blonde hair spilled out of her hood, emphasizing more than ever her eerie resemblance to a porcelain doll. This time, she didn't even attempt to jump out of the way. She stood, waiting. The water dragons came within an inch of her body – she swatted them off with one hand, as though she was simply trying to get rid of an irksome fly – then before Shori's incredulous eyes, the dragons dispersed with a hiss, vanishing into a thick cloud of mist.

"You're a pretty proud person, aren't you, Heika?" the Keeper went on casually. "But deep inside, you know that you're nothing but a helpless human being – a slave to the whims of those who possess greater powers than you do…"

"What?"

"Always, your actions are dictated by someone more powerful than you are. Back then – with your brother's life on the line – you did nothing but follow Shinou's orders. Even now – as your brother's very soul hangs in the balance – you allow Gottfried to do as he pleases."

Gottfried…

Something nagged at the back of his mind, wanting to be recognized, to be picked apart and analyzed, but he was distracted before he could even give it much thought. A few steps away from him, Shori heard Murata mutter under his breath, "Gottfried huh? I see…"

"Gottfried?" Shori echoed, frowning. Something felt wrong here. He felt that he knew somehow, but when he tried to reach for it with his mind, the idea quickly flitted away. "Oi Murata, what is she talking about?"

Murata had on a shrewd expression, his gaze never leaving the Keeper's face. "I see," he repeated after a moment. "So _this_ is what it's all about. But why…?"

"You figured it out?" the Keeper said, sounding amused. "Took you long enough."

Murata didn't deny or confirm, but merely said, "So this is a—"

"Correct," the Keeper cut in smoothly.

"But then," said Murata, looking perplexed, "it's not just us, right? So him too…?"

Shori wasn't following the discussion, but unlike him, the Keeper seemed to have no trouble making sense of Murata's vague statement.

"My partner already took care of him."

Shori stiffened. While the details of the conversation weren't entirely clear to him, he had a gut feeling that Yuuri was involved, that his brother was in danger. "Murata!" he demanded. "What is going on? What is she talking about? Is it about Yuuri?"

Murata stepped back. There was an odd mixture of weariness and disgust on his face.

"Murata?"

"I give up," Murata said, retreating into the corner, his trainers making squelching sounds against the damp floor. "I'm afraid you'd have to sort this out on your own, Shori."

Shori stared. For a moment, his gut twisted horribly at the insinuation that he was being left to fend for himself, but then Murata glanced over his shoulder and met his eyes.

"Calm down and think. You know there's something odd about this."

Odd? The only thing that was bothering Shori now was the fact that his ally had suddenly chosen this moment to tell him that he was on his own. It wasn't as if he felt that he couldn't defeat the Keeper by himself, but having Murata bail on him now was particularly distracting. It made him more irritatingly aware that he was missing something – something important, something that should have been obvious. What _was_ it?

From across the room, the Keeper started to laugh, and Shori snapped out of his reverie. He glared at her, not missing the smirk she threw back at him.

"So Heika," she said, eyes shining with mirth, "you're on your own. What do you intend to do now?"

Shori took a step back as the Keeper came within his reach.

"Are you going to carve your own path, or are you going to tag along blindly with whatever road Shinou dictates?"

For the life of him, Shori couldn't understand what the Keeper wanted from him. Did she intend to make him hate Shinou? There was no need for that. Shori already loathed that self-important bastard. In fact, the only thing that was keeping him into an alliance with Shinou and Murata right now was the knowledge that these two were the only ones who could help him keep Yuuri safe. So what on earth—?

"But you don't need Shinou to save your brother, Heika," the Keeper went on, as though in response to his thoughts. "In reality, your brother does _not _need saving. He isn't in any danger after all…"

Shori glowered at the girl. What the hell was she talking about? He wouldn't be here if it weren't for Yuuri…if Yuuri wasn't in danger from the Crypt…

The girl nodded knowingly. "Your brother is safe – for as long as he stays out of the way. He isn't the Crypt's target, not anyone's target, in fact."

"You're lying—"

"The Crypt is after Ryuu's soul. He's the one that needs to be destroyed – you know that. Your brother is completely out of the picture. You do not need to get involved, and neither does he. Think about it, Heika."

_Think about it, Heika. _

_Calm down and think. You know there's something odd about this…_

Shori made an aggravated sound, as Murata's and the Keeper's voices vied for domination inside his head. The Keeper made a logical argument. Yuuri didn't need to get involved. Yuuri had the right to live. Ryuu – even if he was once part of Yuuri – wasn't supposed to exist in the first place. It wasn't his problem anymore if Ryuu's soul was destroyed…

"That's right, Heika," agreed the Keeper. "It isn't your problem anymore…"

Shori felt lightheaded. It made perfect sense. With Ryuu's soul gone, all their problems would cease to exist. That was right. Ryuu…_should_ be destroyed. It was madness to stand in the Crypt's way.

Shori relaxed, and without even knowing what he was doing, the water dragons dispersed into a formless burst of water and his maryoku receded to his body.

In the corner, Murata watched the unfolding fight with a calculating look in his eyes.

* * *

><p>Pain. That was what all there was. In his universe, there was nothing but excruciating pain. Every inch of his body tingled with a sharp, burning sensation, as though he was being stabbed successively, unrelentingly, mercilessly—<p>

Another scream was torn out of his lips. He couldn't think straight. His brain had turned to mush amidst this horrific feeling. He had never felt anything like this before. He wanted it to stop but he couldn't think of a way to relieve himself of these sensations. The only escape was to die – yes, kill himself – that was the only way…

Yuuri felt his hand moving, conjuring water, hardening it into ice, then refining the material into a pointed edge, sharp enough to wound…to take a life… He needed to do it quickly. He couldn't take it anymore—!

"Shibuya-kun!"

With a ragged gasp, Yuuri came to his senses, head automatically swiveling towards the owner of the voice. Reiko had fallen to her knees, looking a bit shaken at what she was witnessing. Yuuri couldn't tell if she had broken out of their assailant's trap by herself, or if she was released after the stranger realized that she wasn't a threat. He guessed that it must be the latter.

"Shibuya-kun…" Reiko moaned helplessly.

Yuuri realized that he still had a blade of ice clutched tightly over his chest, and with a sickened feeling, he let go, allowing the shard to fall down to the ground, where it shattered into a hundred pieces. It took him another minute or so to realize that – his suicide attempt notwithstanding – he had also just carelessly displayed his powers to a normal human being. That would explain the look of shock and incredulity on Reiko's face.

Oh well, Yuuri thought wryly, that was hardly important now – not when they were being eyed murderously by the stranger in the red cloak. With the mask, Yuuri couldn't actually tell if the guy was looking at them, but he could feel a sort of chill emanating from the stranger. It was terrifyingly familiar, and once again, Ryuu's remorseless face emerged from the memories that he kept hidden in the depths of his mind.

Yuuri pushed the image away, gnashing his teeth together. He attempted to stand up, but another wave of pain surged through his body, and he crashed back to the ground with an agonizing thump.

"You don't like pain very much, do you, Heika?" The stranger's voice was inexplicably so close. A shadow fell over his face and looking up, Yuuri saw that the guy was looming over him, near enough to touch. "I guess that's only to be expected, especially when you're not really used to it. From what I gather, you have quite an army of living shields, haven't you?"

Yuuri bit his lip to stop a groan from escaping. A minute movement of the hand was pure hell; speaking entailed a different level of willpower entirely.

"W-what are you saying?"

"This girl, is she one of them too?" the guy asked scathingly, grabbing Reiko by the elbow and forcing her up, ignoring her protesting gasp. "A shield?"

"What are you talking about?" He couldn't understand what the stranger was saying. The excruciating sensation that was dominating his senses had driven everything from his mind. "J-just leave her alone!"

The stranger didn't seem to be listening. "She isn't that strong, is she? In fact, she looks so…_"_ – he snorted and shoved Reiko back – "…_frail_."

"She has got nothing to do with this!" Yuuri cried, casting an apologetic glance at Reiko, who stumbled back, looking horrified and confused. "She's not supposed to be here! Let her leave!"

"Well, let's see what she could do, shall we?" the stranger went on, paying no heed to Yuuri's outburst. He gestured with his hand, and with a strangled cry, Reiko advanced unsteadily. Her mouth opened, perhaps to say something – a protest or a plea – but nothing came out.

Yuuri reached out to grasp her shoulder. "Sawada-san! Stop—!"

Reiko pushed him away, leaping back in a manner reminiscent of one of the shrine maidens Yuuri had seen back in Shinou's Temple. Her posture gave the impression that she was readying herself for combat, but her eyes reflected the fear she must be feeling inside.

"Let's play a little game, Heika," said the stranger, "what do you say?"

"What…?"

"A game," the stranger repeated. "A contest. The rules are simple: I shall attack you with all my might, and you shall do the same to me. The one who kills the other wins. Simple."

Yuuri's eyes widened considerably. The stranger didn't appear to be joking at all.

"Don't worry Heika. I shall give you an advantage." He waved his hand, and Reiko advanced once again. She seemed terrified, but completely unable to release herself from the power that was compelling her body to move. "This young lady would be your partner – your _shield_, if you will_._"

"No, don't," Yuuri protested. "I told you, she's got nothing to do with—!"

The rest of his plea morphed into a shout, and all of a sudden, he found that he could no longer breathe. It seemed as if an invisible hand had tightened around his heart once more, wrenching the air out of his body. Panic flooded his senses – he knew he was going to die at this rate – but a second later, the pressure around his midsection loosened up, enabling him to take in a huge lungful of air.

"Stop complaining," he heard the stranger say. "Haven't you always fought like this? With people throwing their lives just to protect you? Unless you believe that you can defeat me on your own? That you have any chance of beating me without any assistance?"

Yuuri thought of Conrad, and Gunter, and even Gwendal, who – if they were only near enough right now – would probably be upon them at that very moment, ready to defend him from harm, even with the risk of getting hurt or killed. And there was Wolfram too, who would outwardly scoff at Yuuri's cowardice and call him a wimp, but who would – without fail – stand stalwartly by his side and protect him. It was true: Yuuri had rarely fought anyone on his own, and even those few instances that he was forced to engage an enemy without anyone by his side, he always had the Maou's powers to back him up…

"I didn't think so," the stranger concluded. "For a king, you're quite useless, aren't you?"

"You…k-know me?" Yuuri asked, still gasping for breath, biding for time, until that moment when he could figure something out to stop the impending fight.

The stranger cocked his head. "You're the Maou."

_Maou_…how could he use that term so flippantly? Yuuri tensed. "Who _are_ you? A-are you from the other world?"

Yuuri had been thinking of that. He'd been wondering – although he didn't want to entertain the idea – whether the masked stranger was sent by one of the hostile countries back in the demon world. There was a very slim chance, of course, considering that no one knew – with the exception of Saralegui and Damien, who were accidentally pulled to Earth along with him before – how to actually cross into this world…

Wait, Yuuri paused, mulling over that thought. Could this stranger actually be from Shimaron? His mind quickly rebelled against that idea before it could even take root. Besides, it didn't make any sense! Sara and Damien were his allies…his friends, even. But who else—?

"Slow, aren't you?" the stranger asked idly. "But yes, I am forgetting that you don't know anything…about what happened…about us…heh…well, I _could _tell you my name." He tilted his head; the metallic markings in his mask sparkled when they caught the light. "I am called Silver. Remember it well, Heika, for I might very well be the last person you will ever see."

_Silver_, Yuuri repeated inside his head. What sort of name was that?

"So…shall we begin, Heika?"

Yuuri wanted to object, but he couldn't think of anything else to forestall what was about to take place. He straightened up, wincing, preparing to defend himself, but before he knew what was happening, he found himself abruptly suspended in midair, arms and legs yanked out as far as they would go. He gasped; his wrists and ankles felt like they were being branded by a red-hot metal wire.

"You are too slow, Heika," the man who introduced himself as Silver remarked. "You are no fun at all…"

Something slithered along his limbs, blazing a trail of unbelievable heat across his skin. Glancing at his arms, Yuuri could just discern a thin film of something red – like a rope or cable, but less solid – twisting into a kind of knot around his wrists. When he looked down, he saw a similar sight around his ankles. He tugged at the bonds, trying to cut himself loose, but it was no use.

"This is getting quite tedious," said Silver, rummaging inside his cloak for something. Expecting a dagger or a sword of some kind, Yuuri was taken aback when he saw Silver brandishing a revolver instead.

"W-what are you…?"

Silver cocked the gun with a very audible _click_, and pointed the weapon at him at point-blank range. "Game over, Heika."

"Stop—!"

A shot rang out, cutting him short. There was a great spurt of scarlet, staining the surrounding area with large, uneven splotches. Yuuri was frozen in both shock and horror.

There was blood everywhere.

* * *

><p><em>There's no need to get involved.<em>

_Yuuri is not in danger._

_Ryuu should be destroyed._

_There is absolutely no need to get involved._

The words were oddly comforting. They soothed his anxieties and banished his fears. Shori felt so at peace with the world, as though all his problems had already melted into the air. And then—

_Calm down and think. You know there's something odd about this…_

Out of nowhere, Murata's voice permeated his mind, and Shori blinked in bemusement. He hadn't even noticed that his maryoku had dispelled. He was standing inertly and was staring, as though mesmerized, into the Keeper's blood-red eyes for the past minute, without him even realizing it. But as Shori became aware once more of his surroundings, logic seemed to return to him, and his most recent thoughts now sounded selfish and ridiculous.

He was erroneously thinking of Ryuu as a single entity, whose destruction would indeed be beneficial for the world in general. He had completely forgotten an important fact – that Ryuu's soul was now tied with Wolfram's. Ryuu's destruction would mean Wolfram's destruction as well. And Wolfram's death would mean that Yuuri…Yuuri would hate him forever.

Yes, Shori didn't have to be involved. Yuuri didn't have to be involved. But they _needed _to be_. _Regardless of what he thought of Wolfram von Bielefeld, Shori could never allow him to perish – especially when, according to Shinou, there _was _a way out of this.

"Shinou lied," the Keeper sneered, perhaps noting the change in Shori's face. "There is no way out of this. Wolfram is beyond saving."

"That's not your problem now, is it?" Shori replied, flaring his maryoku. His body pulsated with a bluish light, and the water dragons rose out of the water around them, twisting and reforming. "Enough of this."

"Heika—"

"I told you, it's enough."

The Keeper took in Shori's expression and tried again, "Heika—"

"It's no use." This time, it was Murata who interrupted. "He has made up his mind. Messing with his thoughts wouldn't work again."

The Keeper frowned, regarding Murata with discontent.

"So…what will you do now?" the sage asked, throwing the Keeper's question back at her.

She seemed unfazed but her eyes burned with a strange, crimson glow. "We shall see about that…" – her eyes snapped back to Shori's – "…right, Heika?"

Shori felt his doubts resurfacing, the questions and uncertainties rising to the fore, but he drove them away easily. He didn't need to think too much about the situation. It wasn't that complicated to start with. He only needed to remember one thing – that for as long as Yuuri's happiness was intertwined with Wolfram's survival, there was no mistaking which side he should be on. It was as simple as that.

"I don't want any more of your nonsense!" Shori barked before the Keeper could say anything else. "Just tell me – who are you? What were your orders?" Remembering Murata's own question a while back, Shori added, "Did you come on your own?"

The Keeper crossed her arms sullenly. She looked suddenly like a child who was about to throw a tantrum, but the moment passed, and she drew herself to her full height, looking determined.

"Very well, Heika," she said, "I shall answer your questions…"

Shori's eyes narrowed, not at all inclined to take her words at face value.

"My name is Scarlet," the Keeper continued, "and my orders were – well, aren't those obvious?" She brought up a hand to stop Shori, who showed every sign of interrupting. "And of course, I did not come alone. My partner and I were actually hoping to simultaneously get rid of the two Maous…"

_Two Maous…_

It took a second for the words to penetrate his head, but when they finally did, Shori cursed under his breath. His initial instinct was right. Yuuri was in danger.

"It's a shame you wouldn't be able to meet my partner," said the girl who introduced herself as Scarlet. "But I guess we're even, huh, Heika? Looks like I wouldn't be able to meet your little brother as well…"

The words conjured a disturbing image – of Yuuri suspended a few feet above the ground, and another cloaked Keeper holding a gun to his head. It was so vivid that Shori had no doubt in his mind that that scene was real…that it was happening…at that very instant…right _now…_

_Yuuri…no…!_

"Restraint isn't one of my partner's virtues," Scarlet goaded. "And neither is sympathy."

Shori faltered. Somewhere inside his head, he could hear a gun being fired. He blinked, trying to focus. No, Yuuri couldn't be defeated that easily, but what if…? He didn't want to think about it. His little brother _was_ strong…stronger than Shori could ever hope to be… He should be okay. It couldn't be too late —

His thoughts were cut short. Scarlet started to giggle loudly, and startled, Shori looked up. From across the room, the Keeper held his gaze and answered his thoughts in a tone that resonated with malice:

"It's too late, Heika. Your brother is as good as dead."

* * *

><p><em>In the land of the dead, a fire shall burn…<em>

She listened to the minstrel's voice – both thoughtful and grief-stricken – and tried to find a way to clear her mind. She needed to think.

_A silent herald of the Master's return._

She had heard of the legend before; she remembered the stories that the ancient ones had sung generations before her time. The minstrel was singing it to her now. A song of men and demons, of dragons and gods.

_The Riders shall stir, and the skies will bleed…_

The minstrel plucked his instrument and sadly intoned:

_When flames rise up from the land of the dead._

The northern outpost had been attacked, she remembered with sudden foreboding. Burned down by dragons and their riders. _Ryuzoku_, she thought with disgust. She did not believe that she would ever hear that filthy word again. The dragon clan was supposed to be gone – completely wiped out from the face of the earth. Why had they returned? Why now?

She massaged her forehead in weary contemplation. Her soldiers – the ones who survived the assault – had been quite descriptive about what transpired in the attack. It was merely a small group, they said. Nothing that they could not handle. The first few minutes after the skirmish began, her soldiers had held their own against the beasts and their riders. Then, _he _came, and the tide changed against her soldiers' favor.

A fire-wielder, her soldiers had said. A Mazoku. Her eyes narrowed in remembrance. A Mazoku travelling with a band of dragon riders… What was that about? A conspiracy? Had the demons teamed up with the Ryuzoku? What were they planning?

She mulled that over for a moment, as the minstrel's song segued into another verse:

_In the land of the dead, a great evil awaits,_

_Men will scatter, Demons will break,_

_The Gods shall weep, all armies shall fail_

_And crumble before the shadows in the land of the dead._

She listened to the words with mounting disquiet. Could this really be an omen, a warning, a prophecy of doom? A predestined course for her and her people? It _could not_ be. She refused to accept it. Her people had just risen from a most trying time. This should _not_ happen at this point when they had just managed to rebuild their lives.

She could never allow this to happen. She must stop it. She could not fail her people again. But she needed help…she needed someone…a person who could lead her people even after she was gone… She paused, mind whirring as the option she had been turning over and over inside her head for days now, presented itself once again.

Unmindful of her worries, of the grim thoughts that occupied her mind, the minstrel continued to chant:

_When fire returns to this soulless land,_

_All Men shall take their final stand._

She stood up abruptly, surprising the servants who were stationed beside the door. They looked at her inquiringly, but she ignored them, motioning for the doors to be opened. The minstrel continued, unconcerned that his listener was now leaving:

_When the Riders march forth in the dead of the night,_

_Dissent shall undo the Demons' might._

She waited as the servants obeyed, opening the double doors. She swept past them, voluminous white robe billowing behind her, not according any of them a single glance. The somber voice trailed after her, like a shadow, like an echo, carried to her by the gust of the warm ocean wind:

_When the Wielder of the Flame finally comes to call,_

_The Dragons shall rise, and the Gods shall fall._

The fading strains of the minstrel's instrument followed her as she made her way out of her quarters. A soldier instantly appeared beside her, keeping up with her pace.

"Alazon-sama! Where are you going?"

She gave the soldier a momentary look, not pausing or breaking her stride. "I have to leave. Tell the others I shall be gone for a little while."

"But what about the assembly? The generals are talking about retaliating—"

"I shall be back before they know it," she interrupted impatiently. "I have something to do."

The soldier looked confused. "Something?"

She nodded curtly. Then sensing the soldier's uncertainty, she added, "I have someone to see. It is essential that I talk to him before anything else happens."

The soldier looked as if he could not understand what could possibly be more important than the assembly. "Someone?" he parroted, perhaps wondering if his superior had already lost her mind to leave in the middle of a crisis.

"Someone who would be able to help us," she answered briskly.

"But Alazon-sama, the others…what shall I tell them?"

Alazon stopped in mid-stride and said coolly, "Tell them that I have gone to see my son."

And with a final look at the surprised soldier, she turned and disappeared into the night.

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

_Thank you to alguien22792, Raywolf Shibelt, Anja54, kasmo, grandpoobah of all misantroph, Amed, and pikeebo for reviewing the previous chapter! I was not able to reply to everyone, but please know that your reviews / critiques are appreciated. _

_Soul Hunters seems to be receiving so much attention lately, so I would like to thank everyone who just read it, particularly alguien22792, ccreanoxo, and hwc for leaving such inspiring reviews!_

_So back to this chapter: I have introduced two new characters who will play a part in the clash between our protagonists and their enemies. Also, I made Shori and Murata address each other on a first-name basis. I figured they had already gotten close enough to be able to do that. And as for the last part – if you haven't guessed yet – the Shinzoku are making a move too, which would mean that Saralegui would be pulled into a crisis of his own and would have to pick a side sooner or later. _

_Thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 4: Conspiracy

**Chapter 4: Conspiracy**

* * *

><p><em>"I can't believe it!" Frey exclaimed, giggling. "You actually did that?"<em>

_Ryuu nodded, suppressing a smile. He had just finished telling Frey about his encounter with the Souma thugs, and instead of berating him for fighting with members of another clan, Frey had merely asked for more details of what transpired. Frey had started laughing the moment Ryuu described the Souma heir's flabbergasted expression before Ryuu broke one of his ribs._

_"He was in the way," Ryuu finished. "He deserved it."_

_"You're done for," Frey said cheerfully. "The jerk will probably summon his agents and attack you when you least expect it."_

_Frey looked amused, excited even, like he always did at the prospect of a looming fight. _'War freak,' _Ryuu thought fondly, resisting the urge to reach out a hand and ruffle the boy's hair. He stopped himself with some difficulty and instead chided his companion with halfhearted irritation, "Don't look so happy about it. At least try to look worried for my sake, you idiot."_

_"You're the idiot," Frey retorted, not at all offended, "picking a fight with the heir of the Souma clan." He leaned forward eagerly, coming so close that their foreheads were nearly touching. Ryuu felt his heart skip a beat, and very nearly missed Frey's succeeding words. "So what are we going to do?"_

_"'We?'" Ryuu asked, eyebrow raised. 'We.' He liked the sound of that. Deep inside, his heart took on a strange rhythm, hammering much too fast for his liking._

_Frey frowned. Perhaps he wanted to look severe but he merely ended up looking so childish…so…endearing… _

_"You're not planning on facing them alone, are you?"_

'Facing who?'_ Ryuu thought, distracted, before he remembered what the conversation was all about. He couldn't think of an appropriate response though, and so he just shrugged. _

_It was the wrong thing to do. Frey glowered at him and snapped, "I could take care of myself! I wouldn't get in your way!"_

_Uh-oh. Ryuu raised a hand in a gesture of peace, and immediately cast his mind around for something to say. "I never said that you would, but if they see you fighting with me, won't it cause problems between your family and theirs?"_

_Frey's brow puckered, as though he had just realized that Ryuu had a point, and he retreated, looking appeased. "It doesn't matter," he answered airily. "Besides, everyone in Raven Port knows that you're with us. Father might as well adopt you into the family and be done with…" _

Adopt you into the family…

_Despite himself, Ryuu cringed. The words dredged up several dire recollections of his last night at Schwarz Manor, and he shuddered involuntarily. He was uncomfortably aware of Frey's eyes – worried and confused – and Ryuu looked away, unable to take his scrutiny. If he looked hard enough, would Frey recognize him for what he was? A monster? _

_A brief silence ensued, broken only by a soft rustle as Frey scooted closer. Ryuu felt a weight on his shoulder – a hand patted him gently – then he heard Frey's voice._

_"Ryuu? Stop looking so pathetic. It doesn't suit you."_

_Ryuu's head jerked up in surprise and amusement. For a moment, he couldn't decide whether he should be affronted or pleased, but looking at Frey's eyes, Ryuu knew that he could never be annoyed at him. He smiled and was immediately rewarded with a grin._

_"Okay!" said Frey, with an enthusiastic tap at Ryuu's shoulder. "Now let's go teach that Souma jerk a lesson!" _

_Ryuu couldn't stop himself this time. His hand moved, burrowing into Frey's hair, tousling gently. "For someone who looked so delicate," he said with unmistakable affection, "you could be such a war freak." _

_It was the wrong thing to say. Frey's face darkened, as it so often did when someone happened to remark upon his beauty. Ryuu could almost hear the complaint – _"I don't look like that! Take it back!_" – straight out of the boy's lips, and in normal circumstances, he would have continued teasing him about it. But right then, Ryuu felt a tingle of unease. Far beyond the open window, he could sense someone – no, make that several people – watching them, following their every move… Craning his head a little, he thought he heard a clink of a sword being drawn._

'Way to ruin a moment,'_ Ryuu thought acidly, putting a finger to Frey's lips, silencing the boy's protests. _

_"They're here," he told Frey quietly, gesturing to that spot near the window. True to his words, he caught a glimpse of a black-covered limb somewhere among the bushes. Frey must have seen it too, because he tensed, both in anticipation and excitement. Ryuu grinned and drew out his sword. _

_Frey smiled at him, his green eyes radiating with warmth and trust. Ryuu felt a heady sense of pleasure that had nothing to do with fighting, and with a sudden burst of wishful thinking, he found himself yearning that he could freeze that moment and live in it forever._

'If only,' _Ryuu thought wistfully. _

_If only things were not so complicated, he wouldn't have to worry so much that he had fallen in love with the boy right next to him._

* * *

><p>Damien Schwarz felt quite overwhelmed at the unexpected turn his life had taken.<p>

Born as a prince, but raised in his older brother's shadow. Turned by gruesome events into an orphan, but transformed by his own decisions into a vagrant. Unwillingly hauled back to claim the throne of Dai Shimaron, but now ironically accommodating of his new role as the beleaguered country's new king.

Damien hadn't really imagined that he would end up one day to be the ruler of the country he had abandoned when he was still a child. His parents, were they still alive, would never have thought this possible too – and yet here he was.

Damien took a second to examine his new quarters. The room was comfortable, although a tad excessive for his tastes. There were too many furniture in his opinion: there was a four-poster bed that took up a quarter of the rectangular space all by itself, there was a desk in every corner, several footstools scattered across the floor, and a large antiquated chest of some sort placed beside the arched doors. The walls were filled with murals depicting people in various battle poses – or at least they seemed that way to Damien. The figures were either brandishing a weapon of some kind in one hand or holding aloft orbs of power over their heads.

_'Houjutsu_,' Damien decided, tracing the circular patterns created on the wall. The members of the royal line of Dai Shimaron were supposedly adept in the usage and manipulation of houryoku – the human equivalent of the Mazoku's maryoku – but Damien thought that he must be the sole exception. Since he was young, he'd never been able to wield that form of power, and it had been a constant source of disappointment on his parents' part. Now however, Damien felt neither shame nor a sense of inferiority for not being able to master that aspect of being a product of the Schwarz family. The Ryuzoku blood running in his veins must have cancelled out any potential for houjutsu that he might have inherited from the human side of the family.

Damien shelved all thoughts of houjutsu for the meantime as his eyes strayed towards the open window and the view beyond. Dai Shimaron had changed a lot since he'd last set foot in it, drastically altered by the changing times and horribly transfigured by the events of the past months. Even the palace was very different from the one Damien remembered, which was only to be expected as the old royal building he'd once resided with his family had burned down that night – that night his parents died.

Damien shook his head. It was futile to keep dwelling upon the past when his present and his future were fraught with countless dilemmas. He frowned as his thoughts returned to what happened yesterday, when he'd had his very first encounter with the nobilities of Dai Shimaron.

Back at Shin Makoku, Damien had often seen the Maou – Shibuya Yuuri – looking so terribly harassed after finishing a meeting with the Mazoku aristocrats. He'd often wondered why, thinking that no matter what the nobles' positions were, Yuuri was still the king. And as the king, he should _not_ have to bow down to the whims of those around him. But last night, Damien had the opportunity to experience being in the Maou's shoes for once. He concluded right after that the evident strain he'd once observed in Yuuri was justified. Damien himself had nearly been hyperventilating before the meeting was over. And how could he not be, considering the things that were discussed?

The nobles had questioned everything about him – from his role in the recently-ended war, to the peace treaty he'd signed before leaving Shin Makoku, to his involvement with the Ryuzoku, up to his sexual preferences!

His sexual preferences! Shouldn't that have been a private matter already? But as Damien was quickly realizing, nothing was private when you were occupying the highest position in the land.

"We don't want things to repeat themselves," one of the nobles had said. "This issue about the throne has severely affected the kingdom, so we want to make it clear as early as now that Heika would produce an heir."

Damien could remember his jaw dropping at this point, and his face had assumed an expression that definitely looked very un-king-like. He'd hoped that he'd misheard the noble, but the man next to the speaker had repeated helpfully, in a tone that suggested that he thought Damien was pretty slow on the uptake.

"An _heir_, Heika. A son would be preferable, but we would not object to a daughter. Gender would not be an issue for as long as we have someone who has your blood running in his or her veins."

The last statement had obviously been intended as a joke. There had been chuckles all around him, but Damien didn't even crack a smile. He'd felt too lightheaded to see the humor in the situation.

After a few seconds, in which the nobles had all turned serious once more, having realized that their king didn't find the matter amusing, Damien had stuttered, "H-heir?"

An heir. Wasn't it too early to be thinking of such things?

"We've heard of your…er…affections for Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld," the noble had continued in a much somber tone. "And most recently, we've heard of your…er…friendship with Saralegui-Heika of Shou Shimaron."

"Not that we're complaining about the alliances you have made," another noble had chimed in, for Damien's face had darkened visibly. "I've seen both Lord von Bielefeld and Saralegui-Heika, and I must say that they are both very…fetching. But the thing is, we need you to take someone of the fairer sex to be your mate. In simpler terms, Heika, we need a queen."

Mate. Queen. Damien wasn't even thinking about that. Well, not exactly. Marriage had been at the forefront of his mind ever since Wolfram mentioned it, but he'd only thought of that word in reference to one person. Saralegui.

Damn Wolfram for suggesting that in the first place. Now the Shou Shimaron king was all Damien could think about whenever that one word – marriage – was mentioned.

"You need not make a choice right away, Heika," one of the nobles had gone on. Damien couldn't remember his name; he hadn't bothered remembering any of their titles. "We know that it will be a difficult process…"

"So to make things easier, Heika," another had continued smoothly, "we have already prepared a group of eligible women for you to choose from."

"They all come from reputable families, Heika—"

"—and we are fairly sure Heika will be suitably satisfied with them."

Damien had the distinct impression that everyone around him was following a well-rehearsed script. He had a feeling that he was falling into a trap. He looked around him helplessly. What would Yuuri do in this situation? But no, Yuuri's advisors wouldn't have forced him to marry somebody just for the sake of procreating a new generation of demon kings. Well, Yuuri _did_ get engage against his will, but it was more an accident rather than a conspiracy. And besides, he got Wolfram in the bargain, so there was really nothing for him to complain about at the end of it all.

Damien bit his lip. What would Saralegui do in this situation? The thought of anyone luring the Shou Shimaron king into a forced marriage was utterly ridiculous. Saralegui would never allow anyone to tell him what to do. If he could only see Damien right now, being talked down to like a child by all these men who were well below his station, Saralegui would probably shake his head in disappointment.

_"I _might _decide to take Dai Shimaron back…"_

Saralegui had told him that before. It hard not to think of that, especially so that Damien felt that the Shinzoku would do a much better job than he was doing right now.

"So Heika," one of the nobles had said, startling him from his thoughts. "The preparations for your coronation are nearly complete. We are just waiting for confirmations from the other esteemed guests who were invited."

_'What?'_ Damien had thought wildly. Was the matter regarding the marriage and heir already settled? But he hadn't agreed to anything! Did they take his silence as agreement, or did they deliberately change the topic so that he had no chance to protest?

"Wait a sec—" he'd started to say, but the noble had gone on, as though there had been no interruption.

"Lady Flynn of Caloria said that she would attend. I guess she feels obliged to grace us with her presence, since Heika has most graciously attended her birthday."

"I said wait—" Damien had tried again.

"What about Cavalcade?" a man seated at the far corner had asked, cutting across Damien's protest. "Did Lord Cruyff send a confirmation?"

"He did. The others will send a representative. Francia, for instance, will send an ambassador."

"As expected. Maybe King Antoine's wife did not want him to attend."

Several chuckles had met this comment. During the lull, Damien had gathered his resolve to assert himself, but then one of the nobles had said something that distracted him from what he'd been about to say.

"Shou Shimaron will send a representative. Shin Makoku has not replied yet, but I heard rumors that the Maou has been away from the country yet again. There are speculations that he might have gone after his fiancé. They say Lord von Bielefeld has not been seen in the capital for nearly a month already…"

"Saralegui will not come?" Damien had blurted out without thinking. "And Wolfram's missing?"

For the first time, all mutterings had ceased and the nobles' attentions had swiveled towards him. Damien had blushed.

"I mean…" He had paused to draw a calming breath. "Why wasn't I told about any of this?"

"We thought it was best," came the unruffled reply, "for us to take care of such mundane matters as confirmations to a party invitation, Heika. And besides, you were doing such a wonderful job of rebuilding the country and boosting the people's morale. We believed it was prudent not to distract you."

Damien had bristled with irritation and he had slammed his fist down on the table. "Distract me? You were hiding these things from me!"

"Heika," the noble to his right had said. Damien hated his tone. He sounded like he was trying to pacify a child who was throwing a tantrum. "What Saralegui-Heika decides to do with his time instead of attending your coronation, and wherever Lord von Bielefeld chooses to be, are – most regretfully – none of your concern anymore."

"But it's _your_ concern?" Damien had retorted. "Why should you know of these things, and I _can't_? You don't even know them!"

Silence. The nobles all seemed to be regarding him shrewdly.

"I just want to be informed," Damien had muttered, unable to keep the resentful note out of his voice. "They…they're my friends."

It was an insufficient justification. Damien knew that the nobles were thinking that, and it made him feel so out of his depth. There were some people – people like Saralegui – who could probably maneuver their way out of sticky spots like this with just a few words, but Damien wasn't one of them. Once again, he was painfully aware of all eyes watching him, probing, judging, mutely concluding that he wasn't ready to be a king.

"Very well, Heika. We shall do as you wish."

Damien knew that it wasn't true, but there was no point in arguing further. His helplessness brought about a bitter taste in his tongue that lingered up until now, but no matter how much he tried, Damien couldn't think of a way out of it. The nobles _did_ have a point. Political instability was bound to bring Dai Shimaron down once again if there was no legal heir to the throne. But still…

He should have said something. He should have protested. He should have told them that he liked somebody else—

_'Wait, what?'_

The suddenness and honesty of that thought shook him a little. When did he….? How…? Why did he…? Why on earth was he thinking of _him_ at a time like this?

_'Damn it.'_

Damien closed his eyes and rubbed his temple wearily. He wasn't made for this kind of life, he'd known it, but he also knew that there was no turning back. He was in too deep already to abandon the people of Dai Shimaron and step down from his recently-acquired post. He could never betray the trust and admiration that he had painstakingly gathered from the people around him. And if this meant that he should – he gulped at the thought – take a wife to…to _produce_ an heir, then so be it.

_'So be it,' _Damien repeated wryly, forcing all memories of Wolfram or Saralegui out of his head. He had no other choice.

* * *

><p>There was blood everywhere.<p>

For a confused moment, Yuuri thought that he'd been hit – there was a spatter of blood across his chest – but then he realized that it wasn't his. Silver was completely obscured from view by Reiko, who had stepped between him and the enemy at the last minute, taking a bullet to her shoulder.

Yuuri gasped in shock. "Sawada…san…"

Reiko released a sound, much like a whimper, but no words came out. It seemed that she had also no control over her speech anymore, although Yuuri could plainly see that she would be screaming by now if only she could. At least her mind seemed to be intact, which would mean that Reiko was still in there, feeling and experiencing everything – just stripped of the power to command her own body.

"Obedient little thing, isn't she?" said Silver sardonically, head tilted to the side, as though he was considering what to do next.

Reiko was still in her former position, a trail of dark crimson blood dripping in copious amounts down her left arm. She lifted the injured limb once again, and Yuuri could just imagine how much she suffered for that slight movement. Her face showed no emotion, but her eyes… She was…crying…

"Stop it!" Yuuri shouted, struggling to free himself. "Look, I don't understand what you need from me, but if you're here for me, don't bring Sawada-san into—!"

Yuuri stopped short. Silver pulled the trigger, still aiming for Yuuri's head. But again, Reiko stood firmly, albeit involuntarily, before the enemy, shielding Yuuri from danger. She threw her head back, as a bullet lodged deep into her other arm, piercing through muscle and bone.

"Missed," Silver said with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Well…let's try again."

"Don't!" Yuuri cried, but Silver had already fired for the third time.

Yuuri saw the bullet – as though in slow motion – and he felt Reiko moving to guard him from it. He felt the horror and helplessness brimming out of him, and not for the first time, he felt so utterly vulnerable. Unable to do anything. So…so useless. Yuuri looked away, unable to take it anymore—!

_"For goodness' sake, fight back! You _are_ the Maou, aren't you, wimp?"_

It was hilarious that the first thing he remembered as his demise drew near was one of Wolfram's scornful remarks. It wasn't something that he recalled on purpose, but funnily enough, the thought of Wolfram's reaction at his imminent defeat brought his strength and motivation back. He didn't really have a plan, but he knew that he didn't need one. Fight power with power – it was all he could do, but Yuuri knew he was pretty good at it. Besides, he'd had a lot of practice this past month.

Wasting no more time, Yuuri reached for that reservoir of power inside him, feeling a kind of heat simmering inside his body, spreading rapidly to his extremities. He felt the Maou's spirit stirring within, surfacing, before eventually assuming command. He gave himself entirely to this presence, allowing the ancient spirit to take over, to direct his thoughts and movements, but unlike his previous transformations, Yuuri was still aware of what was going on. He was still by no means the driver, but at least he was right there on the passenger's seat, watching from within.

Invigorated by the Maou's overflowing energy, Yuuri cut through the cords that were keeping him suspended awkwardly in the air. He landed on his feet, right beside Reiko. Moving quickly, he pulled her out of the bullet's trajectory, taking care not to put pressure on her wounded arm. At the same time, he released his water dragons, creating a protective barrier between them and the enemy. The bullet hit the water, came a few inches short of his nose, lost all momentum, then fell to the pavement with a dull clang.

Internally, Yuuri sighed with relief. He had done it. And just in time, too.

"Interesting," Silver remarked, pausing to examine the change in Yuuri's features. "So this is your other form…But what can you do with it, Maou-Heika?"

The question was followed almost immediately by three more shots. Yuuri saw the bullets more clearly now, saw the rents they made as they whizzed through the air. Reiko made a tormented sound, but all the same, her body moved against her will, still insisting on shielding Yuuri from the incoming attack. Yuuri clutched her arm tightly, forcing her to stay put. With a splatter, the bullets entered his water barrier, but these, too, fell futilely to the drenched pavement.

"Very nice, Heika," said Silver appreciatively. "So you _can_ protect yourself after all. Maybe you should have done that earlier before anyone got hurt."

"Enough," Yuuri said, eyes narrowed sharply, voice deeper and harsher than it usually was. "That is enough."

"Then put a stop to it, by all means," came the taunting response. "If you can…Heika."

Yuuri paused, assessing the situation. He needed to attend to Reiko's wounds first. The bleeding wouldn't stop, and it didn't help that she kept on struggling to free herself from Yuuri's grasp. Which was one more thing to take care of – he needed to find a way to release her from Silver's control. But how was he doing it? Eye contact? Silver's eyes were hidden behind that mask he was wearing. Physical contact? But Silver didn't even touch Reiko—

Wait a second. That wasn't true. Silver _had _touched Reiko, earlier, when he'd pulled her forcibly to her feet. Did he do something to her in that brief instant…? Yuuri turned his eyes at Reiko's body, past her physical form, past bones and muscles and tissues and cells, right to her very core. Something was amiss. There was something there that didn't belong. Yuuri tried to reach for that something, knowing instinctively that he could free Reiko by banishing it—

_BANG!_

Yuuri nearly missed the next bullet, but fortunately, his dragons came to the rescue and stopped the projectile dead on its track. But the attack had distracted him from what he was about to do, and had forced his attention back to his enemy. He paused once again, hesitating. Whom should he attend to first? Reiko or Silver?

"Didn't anyone tell you, Heika," Silver asked mildly, as though he knew what exactly passed through his head, "that in a fight, those who hesitate end up getting themselves or their comrades killed?"

"No one is going to die today," Yuuri answered in a voice of determined calm.

"You think so?" Silver asked rhetorically, signaling with his hand.

Reiko thrashed wildly against Yuuri's grip, unmindful of the fact that she was aggravating her condition by doing so. Cursing, Yuuri released her, and she immediately bounded away, leaving a bloody trail in her wake.

"What are you going to do about her, Heika? She's losing an awful amount of blood, isn't she? She's going to die."

Yuuri scowled at his adversary. He didn't need to point out the obvious.

Silver merely laughed, unconcerned. "Change of rules then, Heika. Since you no longer need her, would you let me borrow her for a while?"

Yuuri had just enough time to register that something was wrong, when Reiko – fists clenching into tight balls – pitched onward and struck. Yuuri moved out of the way and countered by gripping the girl by the shoulders, stopping her movements. From the corner of his eyes, Yuuri saw Silver make a slashing motion with his hand, and in perfect synchronicity, Reiko mirrored his movement. Yuuri had no choice but to let her go.

No choice. The words bounced off inside his head. He had no other choice.

"Giving up now, Heika?" Silver asked in a silky voice.

Yuuri straightened up. "It is over," he whispered, and although he hadn't spoken loudly, there was an unmistakable strength behind his words. "This game that you are playing…I have had enough of it."

The enemy scoffed, and he sounded more amused than serious when he replied, "Oh far from it Heika, I'd say that we're just starting."

Yuuri stiffened, maryoku issuing out of his body in such powerful bursts that it was almost as if he was illuminated by a bright blue spotlight. "No," he said firmly. "I said that is enough."

"But I'm not yet done, Heika."

Yuuri ignored him and focused instead on what he was about to do next. It wasn't something that he'd do, or even approve of, in normal conditions, but drastic times called for drastic measures right?

He had no other choice.

* * *

><p>Silver was unimpressed.<p>

He watched as Reiko hurtled towards the Maou, as the demon king careened out of the way, neither attacking nor defending. He might look imposing in his alternate form, but Shibuya Yuuri did not seem to have grown stronger or wiser. Silver could see nothing but the same naïve boy he had engaged moments earlier, the foolish young king who was reluctant to use his powers to hurt anyone.

"You can't run forever, Heika," Silver called out. If the Maou was incapable of defending himself from a casual acquaintance who had been forced to attack him, what chance did he even have when pitted against somebody he loves? Silver shook his head in exasperation. The kid was a hopeless case.

Silver watched for a few more seconds, as Reiko threw another punch aimed at the Maou's jaw, which the Maou, as expected, evaded effortlessly. Silver pushed the girl to try again, and this time, the Maou caught her arm, holding her in place.

"Nice, Heika," said Silver obligingly. "But what happens now?"

The Maou's arm shone a vivid blue, the light spreading across his and Reko's linked hands, engulfing the girl with its brilliance, so that they stood together like two gigantic pillars of flame, both glowing brightly against the waning light of the day. Before Silver could react, the light dissolved, and everything was back to normal. Reiko teetered on the spot, and moving quickly, Silver willed her to fall back, to put as much distance as she could between her and the Maou. The girl obeyed with some delay.

Silver frowned. What did the Maou do just now? He observed the boy warily, waiting for him to make another move, but the Maou did nothing but return his gaze calmly. His impatience getting the best of him, Silver compelled Reiko to move, readying her to attack.

"Well, we've drawn this out long enough, don't you think?" he said after a moment. "Time for you to go, Heika…"

Silver made a hacking motion with his arm – an order to deal the final blow. Reiko tottered forward, slowly, unsteadily, then came to an abrupt stop. He glanced at her with some irritation, giving the order again, more forcefully this time, but Reiko did not move.

"I told you," the Maou said in the silence that followed, "that is enough."

Silver tried again, just to confirm what he already knew – his connection with the girl's soul had been severed. He considered the Maou in disbelief. This boy…did he do it? But he couldn't have possibly known how Silver was controlling Reiko…so…did he figure it out? The idea did not jive too well with Silver's image of the Maou. The kid was not the intellectual kind after all. He was no warrior either. In fact, without the ancient spirit within his ordinary half-demon body, he wouldn't be anyone special…

But…to detect the soul fragment he had used to bind Reiko's soul, and to free the girl by injecting his own maryoku into her body…_that _was pretty remarkable.

"So what happens now, Heika?" Silver asked, preparing to protect himself, anticipating the Maou to fight back. But against his expectations, the boy ignored him and instead advanced towards Reiko. Silver watched curiously.

The Maou moved swiftly, striking Reiko at the back of her neck with just enough force to make her lose consciousness. All at once, the girl's eyes fluttered shut, and she fell limply against the Maou. Silver lowered his hand, surprised at what young king had just done. He observed quietly as the demon king positioned the girl gently upon the ground, noting that his lips moved to whisper a quick apology.

A green light emerged from the Maou's palm, discharging a fair amount of energy – healing energy, Silver immediately recognized – into Reiko's injured arms. It did the trick. The girl's wounds repaired themselves, the skin and bones mending right before their eyes, until there was nothing left but a spot of blood and torn clothing to indicate the damage that had been dealt to her previously. Reiko took a large intake of breath, then her chest fell back, moving normally at last. The Maou bowed his head regretfully.

"How quaint," Silver muttered, drawing the Maou's attention. "Hurting someone just so you could protect them…you are learning, Heika."

It was indeed extraordinary. There was hope for this kid after all, Silver mused. However…

"Stop it…already…" said the Maou, voice weakening, the light around him fading, hair shortening, as though the strands were being pulled back towards his scalp. The water dragons gave a great roar, then shot forward like spears. The Maou had used the last of his strength for a final strike.

Silver didn't bother to dodge. He knew that the dragons wouldn't reach him. The Maou had used too much of his energy to break Silver's control over Reiko, then expended the rest to heal her. There wasn't enough power behind the attack.

He was right. The dragons dispersed before they could cause him any damage, and now, nothing stood between him and the Maou. The boy had collapsed to his knees, panting for breath, his features back to normal. Things would have been different, Silver knew, if this encounter had taken place in the other world, where any form of magic could be wielded freely. But in this world – well, there were stricter rules here. However, the fact that this kid – Shibuya Yuuri – even managed to use his maryoku to such an extent was a feat that couldn't be easily ignored.

Beneath his mask, Silver grinned. This kid and his power…these were exactly what they needed…

"Stop…it…" the Maou repeated, trying with all his might to wrestle himself into a standing position, but he was having no such luck.

"End of the road," Silver told the struggling king, "Heika."

The Maou crashed beneath his own weight, helpless and alone. Silver approached.

* * *

><p>Scarlet sneered at the Earth Maou and repeated, "Your brother is as good as dead."<p>

She saw the change in the man's face, noticed the quivering of his hands as he digested this information, and once again, she wondered how someone of his status could be so easy to manipulate. It was fun, playing with his mind for a little bit, but doing so without any sort of resistance from the man was getting to be a bit tiring. She hadn't counted on this mission to be so…so…_easy_. She hadn't wanted it to be so. She had expected – _needed _– it to be a challenge, but so far, she had seen nothing that was remotely encouraging or impressive about Shibuya Shori.

At least Murata Ken – the sage – proved to be a little more cunning than he had previously seemed. He had broken free of her enchantment without her even noticing, _and _he appeared to have already guessed what was truly going on. Scarlet had expected nothing less from him, but his success was only half of what she wanted to see here. As for the other half – her eyes strayed to Shori, whose pulsing aura betrayed his agitation – well…she doubted whether she would ever see that.

"My partner is highly efficient in what he does," Scarlet went on. "Your brother couldn't have survived the encounter."

Shori didn't speak for a while, but he was watching her intently through the slits of his eyes. He was angry, she could tell, and even without reading his mind, she could sense how confused and uncertain he was of what was going on. _'And you were supposed to be the smart one,' _she thought with a wry smile. _'How disappointing.'_

"Let's end this now, Heika," Scarlet said. "Maybe you'd feel a lot better if you join your precious little broth—"

It was so sudden. Shori was right across the room, glaring at her, but in the next second, he was hovering dangerously close to her face, bringing his right fist down with a vicious snarl. Scarlet bounded out of the way in the nick of time, but the blow scuffed her cheek, drawing blood. Shori must have infused his hands with maryoku…

There was no time to think. Shori was right on her tail, foregoing all use of the water dragons in favor of his own fists. Scarlet cast her mind off, trying to see what her enemy was planning to do or thinking about at the least, but to her surprise, she saw nothing. Shori's mind was blank.

Was he attacking her purely on instinct? Indeed, that was the best thing to do, but only a handful of people had enough training and experience to shut their minds off completely from a mental scrutiny, and Shori – up until a moment ago – was certainly not one of them. He couldn't have learned to do so in just under an hour, especially when Scarlet had been playing with his fears for the past few minutes. What was going on?

Scarlet paused to catch her breath, but Shori took advantage of her momentary lack of movement to take another swipe at her face. She stepped back, landing on the floor, noting at the last instant that she was standing on a puddle of water—

Water! She realized her mistake, and quickly, she propelled herself up in the air. But the liquid solidified before her eyes, and before she could so much as mutter a curse for her carelessness, the water rose from the floor, transforming into a giant hand that grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back. She landed with a splash. The liquid covered her entire body, trapping her within a watery cage.

Shori was staring down at her with grim satisfaction. "It's over."

The water twisted and tightened around her body, pressing and suffocating her. Scarlet shifted. It would take more than a mortal wound to kill her – a Keeper's body was programmed to regenerate right after an injury – however, this attribute didn't stop her from feeling pain. She gasped, feeling something cold and wet going round his neck like a noose, choking her. Her ears were ringing, but somewhere beyond all the noise, she could hear Murata's voice:

"Shori, that's enough!"

"Shut up!" Shori shouted furiously. "I'm done with her games!"

"Look, she isn't—"

Murata said more, but Scarlet no longer heard the rest of his statement. The water gripped her entire body, threatening to drown her. She couldn't break free. Just as she was wondering what to do next, the water vanished. There was a short silence, marred only by the sound of the liquid dripping noisily from her body, down to the flooded floor. Scarlet looked up.

Shori had dispelled his summoned element, his maryoku fading away. Beside him, Murata had his hand on the Earth Maou's shoulder, a ruthless expression on his usually tranquil face. Scarlet blinked, realizing what must have happened. The sage had blocked the Shori's maryoku and had forced the man to stop.

"Murata!" Shori said in the same infuriated tone. "What are you doing?!"

Murata silenced him with a look, turning his attention to Scarlet. "It's over…" he said, in a diplomatic tone that contrasted sharply with the expression on his face, "Scarlet, isn't it?"

"Over?" Scarlet repeated blankly, getting to her feet.

"It's over," Murata said again. "You already saw what you came here to see, correct?"

She shrugged.

The sage went on, "Start talking, and for your sake, you better tell us the truth." He nodded to Shori. "Otherwise, I wouldn't stop him from killing you."

"What are you doing?" Shori repeated in a calmer tone. "Don't tell me that you're…"

"I told you there's something odd about this," Murata said, eyes still trained on Scarlet's face. "She's not an enemy. I thought you would have figured that out by now."

"What?"

There was a pause, before Murata stated dully, "She was sent here by Shinou."

Shori recoiled in surprise, all enmity forgotten. "_Shinou_? What are you talking about?"

Murata ignored him, addressing Scarlet instead. "Am I right?"

"How did you know I wasn't sent by the Cry—?" Scarlet started to ask, but Murata headed her off.

"You can't be from the Crypt," the sage stated impatiently, with all the assurance that he was right. "The Crypt wouldn't dare attack us so blatantly. Not out in the open like this. If you were really from the Crypt, and your goal was to dispose of us, you would have carried out your task more discreetly, in a way that the Crypt's involvement could never be proven. For instance, you would have killed me back in my room when you had the chance, but you didn't."

"I meant to use you against him," Scarlet said impassively, jerking her head in Shori's direction.

"Which doesn't make much sense," said Murata. "You've already taken the information you needed from me, and – as you had just proven today – you could fight Shori on your own if you wanted to. I could only think of two reasons why you kept me alive. One was that you wanted to play with Shori's mind by using his ally as a tool…which – unless you're the really sadistic kind – doesn't make much sense if you wanted to be discreet. And the second reason…"

"Yes?" Scarlet prodded with interest.

"…is that you didn't want to kill me at all. Which would make better sense if this was what I think it was…"

"And what do you think this was?"

Murata opened his mouth to respond, but Shori beat him to it.

"A test," said the man with dawning comprehension. "It's a test, isn't it?"

Murata nodded in confirmation. "It's what I thought too. And besides…" – the sage adjusted his glasses and regarded Scarlet shrewdly – "when you were talking about the Crypt, you called Gottfried by name. The Crypt's members are devoutly loyal to their master. If you were really part of the Crypt, you wouldn't have addressed him in such a way."

Scarlet fell silent, trying to marshal out a counterargument. But when she couldn't think of any, she laughed and raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I give up," she said, still chuckling. "Well, you are partly right."

Murata frowned. "Partly?"

"Partly," Scarlet stressed. "This _was _a test – you both passed, by the way – and I _was _sent by Shinou. However, you are wrong in assuming that I am not from the Crypt. I _am _a Soul Keeper."

Her smile broadened. This information seemed to put Shori and Murata back on their guards.

"Then why?" Shori demanded. "Why are you doing this? Why would Shinou—?"

"To test your abilities," said Scarlet simply. "If we are to work with you, we wanted to see whether you would be of some use."

"Work with you?" Murata echoed. "Why would we want to work with a Keeper?"

"We'll explain everything together," said Scarlet. "Just in time, too. I think my partner's done at his end as well."

"Done?" said Shori, looking furious once more. "You mean you _did_ attack Yuuri…?"

Scarlet smiled enigmatically but didn't expound. Instead she said, "My partner will bring him here. And Heika," – she glanced at Shori – "instead of glaring at me the entire time, you could probably prepare an explanation about that information you have been hiding from your brother." She smirked, noting Shori's discomfited expression. "When he gets here, I am sure he would have a lot of questions, wouldn't he?"

Shori scowled, but the slightly panicked look in his eyes was more than enough to make Scarlet's smirk broaden.

* * *

><p>"End of the road, Heika."<p>

Panting, Yuuri looked up to find Silver staring down at him, the swirls in his mask glimmering ominously in the darkening street. Yuuri willed his body to move, heart thumping wildly when he found that he couldn't. This was bad – he had no energy left. A few meters away, Reiko stirred feebly, and Yuuri strived to draw more power out of his already protesting body, to fight back, to protect…

"Don't push it, kid," said Silver, squatting down to Yuuri's eye-level. Something had changed in his tone. It was now more encouraging rather than menacing. Yuuri wondered what brought about this sudden transformation. "It's over. You passed."

It took a while before the word registered completely. Passed. Passed? Passed?! What on earth did that mean?

Silver must have sensed his confusion, for he explained, "Relax, I'm not your enemy – at least not today. I'm from the Crypt of Souls. Did anybody ever explain to you what that place is?"

The Crypt of Souls… Yuuri had vague recollections of something that happened a few months ago…in his room…with Conrad and Yozak and Shori and Murata and…and Damien and Saralegui…that time when they were all pushed back to Earth… Murata _had_ told him about a place like that but Yuuri could no longer remember the details. All he knew was that Ryuu – or his soul, to be more precise – came from that place. But how did that connect with anything?

"I'm a Soul Keeper," Silver continued, as though this should explain everything, but seeing the blank look on Yuuri's face, he expanded, "I used to work for the Crypt, but something terrible has happened there recently, and I escaped, along with a few of my companions."

Yuuri didn't comment. He pushed himself to a sitting position, regarding the man in front of him with distrust. Silver offered a hand to help him up, but Yuuri shook his head vigorously.

Silver shrugged at Yuuri's uncharacteristic reticence. "We are now working with Shinou – and you too, now that you have proven yourself to be useful." He added, as though in afterthought, "To a certain extent at least."

Yuuri could hardly believe what he was hearing. Shinou?! "Shinou was behind this?" he rasped out. "I don't believe it!"

"Well, not entirely," answered Silver. "He spoke highly of you but for certain reasons, we are not inclined to believe anything Shinou says. We had to see for ourselves if you people would assist or hinder us…"

_'You people…' _Yuuri repeated inside his head. _People_. This man and his companions – wherever the rest were – must have also attacked his friends!

"Not everyone," Silver said, as though he could read his mind. "Just the ones we weren't sure about – you, the other Maou, and Shinou's sage."

Him, Shori, and Murata. Yuuri felt sick. Were Shori and Murata okay? Was this the reason why Murata had been missing classes these past days? Was this why Shori had been avoiding him?

"Don't worry about them. They also passed."

There was something so conceited about that word. Passed. It sounded like they were not worthy enough to be accorded any attention, and that they had to prove themselves to these people. Yuuri gritted his teeth, anger and defiance bubbling inside him.

"They're waiting for us right now," said Silver. "We could discuss the plan together…it's quite complicated, you see…it will save us more time—"

"No," Yuuri said firmly. "I refuse."

Silver stopped, seemingly surprised. He seemed unable to believe that Yuuri had just said what he did. "I beg your pardon?"

"I don't care if Shinou sent you," Yuuri said heatedly, not minding that he was still slumped on the ground, powerless and completely at the other man's mercy. He pointed a shaking finger at Reiko, who was lying a few feet away, still unconscious. "I have no idea what's happening, but I don't want somebody who uses another person as a weapon as an ally! Someone like that - someone like you - is completely despicable!"

Silver seemed frozen for a moment. Then he laughed, the sound muffled against his mask, and said patronizingly, "Well…suit yourself…but you know, it _is_ in your best interest to work with us, Heika." He paused, and Yuuri could just imagine him sneering beneath that eerie mask he was wearing. "You see, Wolfram von Bielefeld's soul is at stake here…"

_'What kind of sick joke is this?' _Yuuri thought angrily, nearly overcome with the impulse to physically hurt somebody just to release his feelings. But then instinct – or was it something else? – was telling him to listen, to give the man a chance to talk…

He frowned. "Wolfram? What are you talking about?"

"So you really don't know anything, huh?"

Yuuri bristled with irritation, and not for the first time, he felt a strong urge to punch the other man in the face. "About what?"

"It's a long story, but well," Silver replied, standing up, "if you would just come with me—"

"No. I want to know. _Now._"

Silver turned his head towards him, giving Yuuri the distinct expression that the man was searching his face for something. He must have seen what he needed to see, because he crossed his arms and said, "Very well, Heika. I'll tell you something interesting."

He paused for effect. Yuuri gritted his teeth, waiting. Then—

"For starters, Ryuu is still alive."

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

_And another chapter done! I can't believe I'm actually making progress. Anyway, up next – more revelations for our hapless demon king, and glimpses of Wolfram, Saralegui, and Damien. _

_Thanks for reading!_


	6. Chapter 5: The Ones You Love

**_The Story So Far_**

A month after the events in _Soul Hunters_, Yuuri and his friends have gone their separate ways. Gwendal stayed in the capital to oversee the affairs of the kingdom, while Conrad and Gunter travelled to the Radford and Rochefort territories to quell the rumored civil rebellions in the lands. Yozak was sent to the human countries as a spy, tracking the movements of Saralegui and Damien, who have both gone back to rebuild their kingdoms. Yuuri has returned to the human world with Murata and Shori, while Wolfram – complying with Shinou's orders – has finally taken the long journey to Raven Port.

As everyone struggles to deal with the repercussions of the choices made at the end of the war, Gottfried makes his move. Realizing that Wolfram has reneged on their deal, Gottfried captures Tier and uses the man's soul to invoke a summoning ritual. He orders the summoned creature to track down and annihilate Wolfram.

Shinou visits Murata in a dream, warning the sage of the Crypt's movements. The warning turns out to be futile, as Murata is captured as soon as he wakes up. His captor – a Soul Keeper who introduced herself as Scarlet – uses him to attack Shori.

Meanwhile, Wolfram approaches the lands surrounding Raven Port. Continually tortured by Ryuu's memories and severely weakened from subjugating Ryuu's soul, Wolfram starts to lose command over his own body. While the Ryuzoku continue to obey him still, they grow increasingly defiant and wary of having Wolfram as their Master.

Lands away, in Seisakoku, Wolfram's actions attract Alazon's attention. Believing that Wolfram's and the Ryuzoku's emergence herald the fulfillment of a dire prophecy, she rallies the Shinzoku for a preemptive strike. She leaves for Shou Shimaron, ostensibly to obtain Saralegui's support.

Far across the ocean, in Dai Shimaron, Damien discovers that being king does not necessarily give one power. As he prepares for his formal coronation ceremony, he is pressured by the nobility to select a wife and eventually produce an heir to the throne. Left with no choice, Damien unhappily concedes.

Back in the human world, Yuuri finds that he may not be able to continue juggling the roles of a king and a student any longer. Still unaware of the facts surrounding Ryuu's real identity and Wolfram's disappearance, he is caught off-guard when he is attacked by another Soul Keeper – Silver.

Yuuri manages to hold his own against his assailant, but not without revealing his abilities to Reiko, who happens to be with him at the time of the attack. Silver turns the tables around by controlling Reiko and using her as a weapon and a shield. Refusing to give up, Yuuri transforms into the Maou, breaks Silver's control over Reiko, and heals the girl's wounds.

On the other hand, Shori engages Scarlet in a fight and narrowly defeats her. Murata, who turns out to have broken out of the Keeper's control on his own, stops Shori from killing her, deducing that she is not exactly an enemy.

Meanwhile, having exhausted his maryoku, Yuuri collapses and is left at his attacker's mercy. Silver, however, stops his assault and informs Yuuri that everything is merely a test to determine Yuuri's strength and his value as a possible ally. Silver and Scarlet separately reveal that Shinou has sent them.

Silver offers Yuuri an alliance, but Yuuri angrily refuses to align with somebody who uses a human being as a weapon. However, much to Yuuri's horror, Silver discloses that Ryuu is still alive.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: The Ones You Love<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Frey had called it a party, but upon arrival at the Hoffman Manor, Ryuu quickly discovered that it wasn't so. It was an assembly of clan leaders, and far from being fun, it was – for the most part – uneventful.<em>

_The clan leaders argued as usual about the tiniest details. Concerns and issues were raised, but none were resolved. Rumors were exchanged, pleasantries were altogether avoided, and heated debates were sparked at the slightest aggravation. A minor problem regarding the dragons culminated into a shouting match between Hoffman and Rosenthal. Everybody else picked sides, and not a moment too soon, the meeting adjourned with both parties bellowing obscenities at each other at the top of their lungs._

_Yes, Ryuu decided, it was pretty uneventful. There had been nothing much to take note of, nothing worthy to report. Well, except for Souma's outburst. The man had attempted to draw Ryuu into another fight, obviously still smarting from that humiliating defeat he had suffered weeks before. As tiresome as it were, it was still the most interesting thing that had happened in that five, long, senseless hours inside Hoffman Manor._

_What a waste of time, and Ryuu had never been one to waste time. He had precious few of that to start with._

_"You could always refuse," Frey reminded him minutes later, after Ryuu finished recounting the events that transpired at the assembly. He had found Frey seated on a window ledge at one of the towers, apparently attempting to draw the setting sun. "I do it all the time."_

_Ryuu snorted. "_You_ could. You're the Master's son. While I, on the other hand, am but a humble wanderer who just happened to be in your father's service."_

_It was only partly true. He wasn't a wanderer. He came for a reason, although he stayed for another reason entirely. It was funny, how his destiny had gone off tangent in just a matter of days after meeting Frey. A year before, he'd been extremely sure that he had only one path to tread – a straight line toward destruction and total annihilation. Now it seemed that he was moving in a circle – a road that curved and turned and revolved around a center, where Frey was, and always will be._

_The possibilities seemed endless, an infinite loop of purpose and promise, but Ryuu wasn't fooled. He didn't think of himself as cynical – merely realistic. Maybe excessively so. Who could blame him though? He'd been singled out for the most illogical, the most unfair, and the cruelest of fates that could befall anyone. Which made it relatively easy for him to believe that this thing he had with Frey…it had to end somewhere…some time soon… Even a circle had an end after all._

_"I hate it when you do that."_

_Ryuu started. "I beg your pardon?"_

_"I hate it," Frey repeated without looking at him, "when you go off into your own world where everything is miserable and dreary and pointless."_

_"What?"_

_"I understand if you couldn't or wouldn't tell me what you did in the past, and I'm never going to force you to. So stop brooding about whatever sad, wretched world it was that you came from."_

_"Frey—"_

_"Look," Frey cut him short, abandoning the scenery he'd been sketching for a moment to glare at Ryuu. "Things happen for a reason. Get over it already."_

_Ryuu stiffened. "That is extremely easy for you to say."_

_"Of course," said Frey sarcastically. "My life is perfect, isn't it?"_

_"Compared to mine?" Ryuu snapped. "Yes it is."_

_But as soon as he said that, Ryuu knew it was a lie. Even before his birth, Frey was meant to tread a similar destructive path, like an arrow that was let loose to collide with one particular target. Useful, essential, and completely dispensable._

_"I'm sorry," Ryuu said after an awkward beat, all resentment forgotten. "That wasn't what I intended to say."_

_Frey paused, looked at him thoughtfully, then returned his eyes to the parchment on his lap. "Me too. I guess that came out the wrong way."_

_"I know."_

_"So what exactly were you trying to tell me?"_

_"Well…" Ryuu hesitated, wondering what would happen if he were to tell Frey the truth right now. Then he thought better of it. "You first."_

_Frey shrugged. "I just meant to say that everything – good or bad – has a purpose. Case in point – you."_

_"Me?"_

_"I know you went through something horrible, Ryuu. But look at the bright side. Despite everything, something good happened to you." Frey grinned at him. "You met me."_

_Ryuu fought to suppress a smile. "You make a good point."_

_Frey laughed. "Of course I'm right. What would you ever do without me?" _

_It was rhetorical, and Ryuu knew that Frey was merely teasing him. Still, the words wouldn't leave him, prompting him to dissect the question with unnecessary obsession: What would he ever do without Frey? His close friend and ally? One of two people in the world that he trusted? The one person he was certain he loved unconditionally? _

_Ryuu didn't have to think long. As he gazed at Frey, the answer came to him in a single, fiercely uncompromising thought: he didn't want to know. No matter what happens now or in the far-off future, he didn't want to know. For surely with all his skill, experience, and cunning, he could contrive a plan to keep Frey safe and happy, couldn't he?_

_And Ryuu started to think…_

* * *

><p>"Ryuu is still alive."<p>

It was curious, how four simple words could have so much effect on him, how one single statement could stop his breath, turn his brain into mush, twist his stomach into a knot, and flood his veins with ice. Yuuri forced himself to breathe—one large intake of air to clear his head—inhale—exhale—

"Do you understand what I just said, Heika? Ryuu is still _alive_."

Yuuri froze, his breath hitching in his throat. The masked man – Silver – repeated the words slowly, emphasizing the last one. Alive.

It was the last thing Yuuri had expected to hear, and considering all the damage Ryuu had caused and all the people the man had killed, it was the last thing Yuuri wanted to believe in. No. There _must_ be a mistake.

"I…I saw him die…" Yuuri said softly, more to convince himself than anyone. "He's dead."

"Well, yes, technically," Silver agreed in a matter-of-fact tone, "if by 'dead' you mean that his body perished."

"But you just said that he's alive!"

"Again, yes. If by 'alive' you mean that his soul is still intact and he is within a body. So for the purpose of this discussion, yes, Ryuu is still very much alive."

Yuuri regarded the man uncertainly. He couldn't decide whether he should unquestioningly take the word of someone he had just met – someone, moreover, who had just held a gun to his head and tried to kill him.

"You're lying," he accused. "I saw him die. I saw his body. There's no way that Ryuu could have—"

"His body did disintegrate," Silver indulged him, "but unfortunately, his soul didn't. He is still out there, and he's getting more dangerous by the day."

"If that's true, what has this got to do with Wolfram?"

Silver paused. From beyond his mask, Yuuri could just imagine the man giving him a pitying look.

"They really didn't tell you a thing, did they?"

"If I knew anything, I wouldn't be asking you, would I?" Yuuri retorted edgily. He was starting to break into a cold sweat for some reason. It must be the stress of the fight, or the fading adrenaline surge of nearly dying. That and the sinister feeling that what Silver was about to tell him might just blow his mind away and change his life for the worse.

"Figure it out," said Silver. "I already told you the essentials: Ryuu's soul survived. He is still within a body as we speak. What does that tell you?"

Yuuri tried to think back to that time, to that crucial moment in the battlefield. He could feel a headache developing as he tried to make sense of various muddled memories, of several gruesome images that he had endeavored to forget – or at the very least, push toward the back of his mind.

"You're…are you saying that Ryuu's soul _escaped_ from his body the time that he died?"

"Something like that," said Silver, nodding approvingly. "But not escaped. _Extracted_ is more like it."

"Extracted," Yuuri repeated, an ominous sensation washing over him. "And he has a body now so…s-so his soul is contained within somebody else…someone who was near him the time that he—"

He broke off, as his mind automatically replayed the most horrible scene he had ever witnessed in his entire life. Of Wolfram in the midst of battle, of Wolfram ending Ryuu's life with one fatal thrust of the sword. Where Wolfram inexplicably stayed with the enemy even as the man drew his dying breath. Where Wolfram knelt by Ryuu's corpse, leaning so close, as though he was speaking words of comfort to the dead man…

Yuuri blinked back the wetness in his eyes when he recalled the fire. Wolfram had created a scorching barrier, blocking himself from the world – a fire that crackled and burned with such fury that it nearly took his and Wolfram's lives.

_Wolfram._

"There was only one person near Ryuu when he died," Silver said, driving the point home. "Only one person, Heika, who had the opportunity to absorb Ryuu's soul."

Yuuri clenched his fists tightly. The memories he'd been trying to smother since the battle ended, surfaced and flashed rapidly before his eyes. The field littered with corpses…the soldiers and their bloodthirsty cries…the forceful beating of dragons' wings…Ryuu and his hatred-filled eyes…and Wolfram…

"Wolfram…" Yuuri said in a constricted voice. "Wolfram was with him. But did he…?"

"He did," Silver affirmed before Yuuri could finish the question. "He is trying to contain a corrupted soul – Ryuu's soul – within his body, so much so that his own soul is waning."

The color drained from Yuuri's face. He didn't understand what that meant, but he was pretty sure it couldn't be anything good.

He was right.

"That boy is dying," Silver told him, and for some reason, Yuuri had no trouble believing it.

* * *

><p>Of all the words that characterized King Saralegui of Shou Shimaron, absentminded wasn't one of them. And yet, for the third morning in a row, he found himself in his quarters, staring blankly at nothing in particular as his hands shuffled busily through a stack of letters that he hardly even accorded any attention. Every so often, he would stop to stare at a particular letter, which obviously had been handled so much lately that the sides of the parchment were already frayed. Saralegui paused, gave a little shake of the head, returned the letter to the back of the pile, then resumed the cycle, stopping once again at the same tattered parchment after another round.<p>

He was trying to look busy, but his act failed to fool Belias, who leaned forward after a moment to divest him of the documents. Saralegui looked up at his uncle, brows furrowed.

"I was going to read those," he said, slightly annoyed.

"You have already read them," Belias said patiently. He singled out the frayed document from the pile and held it up for emphasis. "Especially this."

"This" was a neutrally-worded invitation to the coronation of Dai Shimaron's new king – Damien Schwarz – and it was the very thing that was keeping Saralegui so preoccupied for days now.

"Are you changing your mind?" Belias asked. "About not going?"

"I already said I wouldn't," said Saralegui testily. He wouldn't go, and he wouldn't change his mind.

"You did. But it seems to me that you have not completely ruled out the other option."

Saralegui scoffed but didn't disagree. Belias was right. He didn't like second-guessing himself, and the fact that he was actually doubting his decision regarding this issue made him even more wound up. To add to his growing unrest, he had recently received news of strange incidents in Dai Shimaron, the most disquieting of which was Damien's impending _marriage_…

It was alarming to note how Damien had managed to get himself hopelessly embroiled in court politics in just under a month. Two weeks after ascending to the throne, Damien had reportedly found himself at odds with the ruling faction of the nobility. Apparently, several noble families had formed alliances to control all aspects of the country's army and economy, so that by the time Damien returned to Dai Shimaron, he never stood a chance of establishing his own regime. Although nobody contested his claim to the throne, the nobles had made sure that the crown was stripped of all authority and power.

Saralegui wondered how long it took Damien to realize that he would be king of Dai Shimaron in name only, and that he was now – for all purposes – just a prisoner in his own country. A marionette with a crown. A puppet king.

Saralegui leaned back against his chair, suddenly weary of politics. Wasn't it just a month ago when they'd talked about changing the world – the three of them, him, Damien, and Yuuri? Whatever became of their plans? How did things end this way – with one king absent from his throne, pining for his fiancé who appeared to have vanished without a trace? And him – the king of Shou Shimaron – who was still attempting to piece together a country ravaged by war? And the third – Damien Schwarz – who was currently adrift a world of political intrigue that he couldn't control?

Saralegui knew he was partly to blame. He'd been lulled into a false sense of security; he'd been blinded by Yuuri's enthusiasm and Damien's conviction. Now, the idealism of everything they'd discussed, dreamed, and hoped for seemed so juvenile against the stark reality of court life.

Damien was too young, too inexperienced, too much of a good person to ever be a successful politician – Saralegui knew that. What was more, Saralegui also knew that with Greyheim Schwarz dead, Damien was the last of the Schwarz line, and therefore was without a family, friend, or ally. And yet despite his omniscience, Saralegui had allowed Damien to return to Dai Shimaron, alone and defenseless. He was even the one who pushed Damien into taking the crown! What made it seem like a good idea back then? Saralegui could no longer remember.

Saralegui should have known from the start – being noble and selfless did not become him at all. He should have remained the cold, ruthless tyrant that he was and snatched the Dai Shimaron throne when he had the chance. Perhaps if he had, Damien wouldn't have become king. And Saralegui wouldn't have to feel so _worried—_

There! He'd admitted it! Even just to himself. The source of his agitation for the past days and the main reason for the mounting disturbance inside his head. He had sensed from his spies' reports that Damien was in trouble, but Saralegui had never imagined that things had progressed to this degree. Now Damien had dug his grave a little deeper and gotten himself engaged!

The very thought made his eyes burn, and Saralegui pushed his tinted glasses up the bridge of his nose as a precaution. Damien hadn't picked a bride yet – or more accurately, the nobles hadn't selected their ideal queen thus far – but Saralegui already loathed this girl, whoever it would turn out to be.

And there! He'd admitted it too – he was jealous of somebody he hadn't even met, over someone that he shouldn't even care about! At least not to this suffocating extent. How pathetic was that? And still, deep down, Saralegui harbored a few more thoughts and feelings of the absurdly pathetic kind. He was angry at what Damien had become, and yet he couldn't stop himself from feeling so restless over the boy. He understood that getting married wasn't Damien's choice, but he felt disappointed all the same that Damien hadn't put up more of a fight against the arrangement. To top it all, what was eating at him the most was the frustration of having deliberately missed out on a rare opportunity to acquire – not just a kingdom – but also a good man's heart.

"There is bit of a development in Dai Shimaron," Belias said after a moment, diverting Saralegui's attention from the pitiable state of his thoughts. "It appears that two people will eventually be crowned – the king and the queen."

"The bride has been chosen?" Saralegui asked levelly. "Already?"

"Not that I am aware of," replied Belias. "They do have a few more days to decide, althoughI was told that the number of candidates had been narrowed down into two."

"And what of these candidates?"

"Both of noble birth. And child-bearing age."

Saralegui hid a wince. Great. Once a child was on the way, there would be significantly lesser chances of conquering Dai Shimaron. Or Damien, for that matter.

"You are sure you won't interfere?" Belias asked when Saralegui took the information without comment. "Lord Damien—"

"—is a fool," Saralegui finished irately. "He is weak and useless, and hopelessly immature—"

"—and honest, despite his faults," Belias inserted. "And he needs help."

Saralegui paused, mutinous. Then he said, "The invitation is a trap, you do realize that, Belias?"

That was another issue that was weighing heavily on his mind. Reports had reached them that the noble clans of Dai Shimaron were amassing an army of Houjutsu-users, and to date, they now possessed enough power to lay a small territory like Shou Shimaron or Caloria to waste. Although he didn't think that Dai Shimaron would resort to an open war much too soon, Saralegui decided that leaving his country at this point was too risky.

"And even if I go," Saralegui continued, "what could I possibly do to change Damien's mind?"

"He will listen to you," Belias assured him. "Lord Damien is…fond of you."

Saralegui scowled. "It's not that simple. Even if he decides otherwise, Damien needs _real_ power to act on his choices. He needs to fight his own battles, Belias. Like I did. Like Yuuri did. We are kings. We don't have the luxury to be weak."

"Very well," said Belias, seeming to accept that. But then he added in a quiet voice, "That may be so, but Sara…you and the Maou, you had friends and allies. Lord Damien has none. You do realize that?"

Saralegui knew that too, and it was already jarring to have to live with that without Belias making all these arguments on Damien's behalf. Why were they even having this discussion?

Saralegui regarded his uncle suspiciously. "Belias, what are you—?"

He broke off, muscles tensing as he felt the abrupt appearance of an aura that wasn't there a second ago. Belias must have felt it too, for he turned around swiftly, drawing his sword, and almost flying across the room in one motion. But even as the man reached the intruder, he stopped a few inches short of his quarry when he saw who it was, his eyes widening in recognition, then narrowing with consternation.

The intruder didn't move. She raised her head imperially, long cloak flapping ceaselessly around her, although there was no breeze. She was as stunning and imposing as Saralegui remembered, although he could sense a slight weariness in the way she held herself. What happened? Why was she here?

No one spoke; no one seemed inclined to greet the other. Then with a resigned shrug, Saralegui fell back into his chair, and said pleasantly, masking his surprise and misgivings at the reappearance of this particular woman into his life:

"Hello, Mother."

* * *

><p>"That boy is dying."<p>

_'Wolfram is dying,' _Yuuri restated inside his head, and to his immense horror, he could sense the truth in that statement. He had known it; he had felt it. Something was wrong. Wolfram had behaved way too strangely the last time they were together, as though he was trying to say goodbye for good. And Yuuri had childishly agreed to his conditions, trusted his words, believed in his promises, and let him go.

"He promised to return," Yuuri said, his voice hard with rising anger, overpowering the shock and terror at the discovery. He felt cheated, deceived, taken for granted, and more. He was fairly sure that Shori and Murata had known about this. Shinou, too. _This_ was what they were hiding from him! He repeated through clenched teeth, "Wolfram said he'd return. Are you telling me that he lied?"

"You tell me, Heika," Silver said, suddenly somber. "Was he the type who'd promise something that he couldn't keep?"

"I don't know!" Yuuri burst out, now seriously agitated, unable to absorb the information all at once. "How did this even happen? Why is Ryuu's soul inside…?"

He couldn't say the rest, because deep down, he was beginning to understand why. He had perhaps known it all along. He answered his own question, surprised that his voice came out steady despite the internal turmoil that his realization had caused.

"Wolfram did it on purpose, didn't he?"

Silver nodded in assent.

"But he killed Ryuu."

It was a vain objection, a futile argument that went contrary to everything Wolfram had done. With an unpleasant jolt of understanding, Yuuri recalled how Wolfram had admitted that he had feelings for the man he had eventually skewered to death.

"There is more," Silver said when Yuuri didn't say anything else. "We are just barely scratching the surface of the entire truth, Heika."

Yuuri could only stare at the man, his mind whirring hysterically, piecing together all that he had been told about Ryuu, all that Wolfram had revealed to him about the same guy, and everything that had happened between Wolfram and him. Nearly a month ago, Wolfram had told him that he was going away…that he had something important to do… This task that Wolfram had so adamantly kept secret from him…this something that he needed to do…it was for _Ryuu_…?

Again, Yuuri had trouble breathing, a spasm of pain shooting from his chest to the rest of his body. This was a different kind of pain – more insidious, deeper, and infinitely more agonizing than any physical wound. Yuuri recognized this feeling. This sharp, incurable, ugly feeling. Betrayal. He had felt it before and back then, Wolfram had been the cause of it too.

Yuuri clutched a hand over his chest as the pain intensified a hundredfold. He refused to believe it. He didn't want to think about it. He wished he could shut his mind off to stop himself from dwelling on this awful, awful feeling—!

"If nothing is done," Silver said, interrupting his thoughts, "he is going to die. If this goes on, Ryuu's soul will eventually consume Wolfram's, and by then, it will be too late."

"Wolfram…" said Yuuri slowly, "…will die?"

"Yes." Silver hesitated for a moment, and Yuuri braced himself for the onslaught of more horrific details. The man didn't seem to have any shortage of it. "More precisely…we will have to dispose of him."

"You mean…kill him?"

"If his soul is overwhelmed, he would not be Wolfram anymore, Heika. That is why we have to work fast – either to save him or destroy him. For his own sake."

_For Wolfram's sake._

"Stop it," Yuuri whispered as the words echoed mockingly inside his head. He could feel his thoughts piling atop one another, threatening to overpower his sense of reason. He needed to stop thinking, stop feeling, stop trying to make sense of anything. If he went on like this, he would surely lose his mind. He needed to stop! "I—I don't want to hear anything more."

Silver evidently didn't care about Yuuri's feelings or his current state of mind, for he made an impatient sound and said, "If it will help you make up your mind, Wolfram had your best interests at heart. He did this for your sake as much as—"

That was the wrong thing to say. Of all the things the man had divulged so far, it was this that made Yuuri snap.

"He did this for Ryuu!" Yuuri shrieked, unable to stop an explosive surge of fury from bursting through. He was dimly aware of his entire body glowing, first a faint bluish color, and then grey, and then black. Maryoku rushed out of his entire body in undulating waves of liquid that was as dark as wine. Silver retreated, staggered at this display, while Yuuri got to his feet, limbs invigorated with unexpected power.

"It was all because of _him_! NOT ME!"

"Heika—"

"And everybody knew, didn't they?! DIDN'T THEY?!"

"Heika! You don't understand—"

Yuuri wanted the man to stop talking, and upon that mere thought, he found himself suddenly standing before Silver, right hand closed fast around the man's throat. As he listened to the man's struggles to breathe, it occurred to Yuuri how it might be a good idea to crush the man's windpipes and finish him off right now. The viciousness of his thoughts would have alarmed him any other time, but at that moment, Yuuri couldn't care less. He was too angry, too confused, too hurt to even care whom he hurt back.

"And here you speak of 'barely scratching the surface of the entire truth…'" Yuuri whispered dangerously. "You are the same as everyone. You tempt me with lies and half-truths, but in the end, you will _never_ tell me the entire truth, would you? _How dare you?!_"

With a flick of the wrist, Yuuri sent the man flying through the air, although not a second too soon, Silver righted himself and deftly landed on his feet. The man seemed to be watching Yuuri more closely than ever, poised to retreat or fight back – Yuuri couldn't tell.

At any rate, Yuuri didn't care. He felt his body moving, responding more to the emotions coursing through his entire being rather than his thoughts. As his heart swelled with passion and frustration, he found himself flitting forward, fist colliding with Silver's jaw. The man's reflexes left much to be desired. He seemed to have gotten slower, looking as though he hadn't even seen Yuuri move until it was too late.

"You said you came to test me," Yuuri said, vaguely aware that his fingers were coated with blood that wasn't his, "and have me prove my worth as an ally. Here is an idea…why don't _I _do the same to _you_?"

The darkness around him deepened, and Yuuri reveled in the strength and control that rushed through his body. The maryoku felt strange and dangerous, and yet familiar at the same time.

"And what do you have in mind, Heika?" Silver asked warily, wiping his chin and straightening up.

"The truth," said Yuuri. "The _entire_ truth. Right _now_."

It took Silver a while to decide, and Yuuri didn't have the patience to wait. His entire system was on high alert – he couldn't calm down, couldn't stop the desire to take all his emotions out on someone – anyone – even someone who seemed to finally have decided to cooperate. For what good was knowing the truth now, when Wolfram was on the verge of death, and Murata and Shori had betrayed him?

"Very well, Heika," Silver began, but Yuuri – his body responding to the barest prickle of irritation – flung the man aside with a swish of the arm. Blood was pounding in his ears, nearly rendering him deaf to the man's cry of pain and subsequent protest. Silver was yelling something – saying that he was willing to talk – and it was only through a stupendous effort that Yuuri finally – _finally_ – managed to stop.

Yuuri distanced himself from the man, observing with some interest that his maryoku was waning back into a luminous blue light. The darkness that had engulfed him minutes ago had dissipated, and Yuuri found himself _wanting_ to summon the feeling back…

Across him, Silver was on all fours, coughing violently, clutching a hand over his stomach. Yuuri quashed the pity and remorse that burned his throat, and when he spoke, his voice held no trace of sympathy.

"Now, talk," Yuuri ordered, already half wishing for an excuse to bash the man's face into his skull.

Silver gave one final cough before answering, "You're an interesting one, aren't you? Although you need to be careful how you use your maryoku, Heika…"

"I do not need advice from you," said Yuuri coldly, fingers twitching reflexively.

"I know," said the man, raising both hands in surrender. He didn't sound afraid though, merely impatient. "We've wasted enough time, Heika. Let me tell you what you want to know then – the truth."

Yuuri barely restrained himself, but somehow the need to be informed overcame his rage, and for the next fifteen minutes, he listened impassively as Silver told him a story – an incredible and yet improbable tale that must have sprouted from the mind of a deranged and sadistic writer. For how else would you qualify a story that involved the experimentation of souls? Or the splitting of a soul into two? Or the enduring love of a corrupted being whose struggles to save the person he loved lasted for several, tumultuous lifetimes?

It was too much, and even in his current form, Yuuri still fought to keep his mind from imploding from all these information. A month ago, he would have been very interested to listen to everything, to finally find out the truth of what took place before and after the war, of the events that had changed Wolfram so. Of everything.

But right then, Yuuri couldn't even muster the tiniest trace of curiosity. Something else had settled over his mind and his heart, something that wouldn't let him feel the shock of learning that Ryuu was once part of his soul, the revulsion of finally understanding what Wolfram had set out to do, and the resentment of having been kept in the dark for so long. Everything that had kept him awake at nights in the past weeks – his thirst for information, his rage at Shori and Murata and Shinou, even his yearning for Wolfram – everything seemed to have been sapped out of his body in a single instant, leaving nothing but a void. He just felt strangely empty.

"That's about it, Heika," Silver concluded. "Your brother and Shinou's sage will fill you in on the rest. I believe Shinou has set his plan in motion, but I will leave them to do the explaining of that particular part."

Yuuri stared at Silver, at this man who had known so much and had revealed so much – at least significantly more than any of his so-called friends and brother had ever told him. The man appeared to be waiting for a reply to his earlier question – would Yuuri work with them?

_Wolfram is waiting for him._

To save Ryuu's soul.

_Technically _his_ soul, too._

Yes, but just as much as Wolfram wasn't Frey, and Murata wasn't the Great Sage any longer, Yuuri knew with certainty that he and Ryuu weren't – _aren't_ – the same person.

_But Wolfram...what was Wolfram thinking?_

"If I go with you," Yuuri asked slowly, "will I find out where Wolfram is? Will I see him again?"

"Of course."

That was all he needed to know, and with that, Yuuri made his decision. Yes, he would find Wolfram. Yes, he would make Shori, Murata, and Shinou pay dearly for keeping this from him. And yes, he would put an end to this debacle about his and Ryuu's soul…

But from here on, Yuuri added privately, he would take charge of everything that was happening around him. From here on, he would never allow himself to look weak, or be deceived and treated like a child, or – he glanced at Reiko, who was still lying motionless a few meters away – to have others hurt just to protect him. Never again.

"She'll be fine," Silver said, noticing Yuuri's gaze. "I'll have someone bring her home. You did a good job healing her—"

"Because you did a good job hurting her," Yuuri cut in, surveying the man distastefully. "Before I give you an answer, tell me one thing – how can I ever trust someone like you?"

"That is for you to decide, Maou-Heika," came Silver's immediate response. "But I will assure you this – for as long as we have similar goals, you can count on our help."

"And what goals do we have in common?"

"For now," Silver said, "it's to find Wolfram von Bielefeld."

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. "I thought you knew where Wolfram is."

"I said we could find out, Heika," Silver corrected him. Then unexpectedly, the man laughed – a grim, humorless sound. "But it doesn't matter where he is. In his state right now, anywhere is hell."

* * *

><p>It was yet another day in hell, but Wolfram was surprised to note that he was already quite used to it. The instability of his own mind, the uncertainty of his mission, the agony of waiting for any news from Shinou, from Murata, from Shin Makoku – everything had somehow become bizarrely normal.<p>

Just another long, excruciating day to be alive.

But as awful as it were, Emil was about to make his day even more unbearable. Wolfram had long since stopped believing that it wasn't possible.

"Our scouts have spotted movements at the border, my lord."

Wolfram knew at once whom they were dealing with. There was only one type of enemy around these parts: Shinzoku.

"There are more of them this time," Emil went on. "They seem to be organizing a large-scale attack."

Wolfram gritted his teeth in frustration. What in the name of Shinou was their problem? Wolfram and his Riders had to hurdle a garrison of Shinzoku warriors before they even managed to set foot in Raven Port, but even now that they were finally safely ensconced within the ruins of the dragon city, the attacks hadn't stopped. Were all Shinzoku as unrelenting as Saralegui? Did the Shou Shimaron king even know what his kinsmen were doing? Would he care if he knew?

"We were able to force them to retreat, but we lost three guards in the process, my lord…"

Damn it. The Shinzoku raids were becoming a daily occurrence, and although Wolfram had the foresight to deploy Riders all around the borders, even then, his soldiers were already spread thin. They would never hold the city if a siege from a more capable and more organized army were to be launched from outside. There was no denying it – the enemy had them well and thoroughly trapped.

"And…my lord?" Emil took a cautious step back, as though he knew that what he'd say next would surely incite Wolfram's wrath. "There was another casualty…"

Wolfram froze; an unearthly screech filled his head, and although he was prepared for it, the sound shook him to his core. Another casualty. Another dragon dead. Wolfram couldn't fully comprehend how his link with the dragons worked, but he often wondered…could the dragons feel it too? This hopelessness and desperation and fear that continued to grip him at all hours of every single day? Could they hear the cold, mocking voice of the dead man whose corrupted soul now resided within him?

"It's…the same with the others. This one attacked its Rider. We had no choice."

When did they stop referring to the dragons by their names? Wolfram couldn't remember. Maybe it was when the third dragon went berserk, and they all realized that it was easier to slaughter something that had no name.

"The Tamers have the remaining dragons under control, my lord…for now. Except for Drache…"

The dragons – Drache included – were growing wild, attacking indiscriminately, sometimes no longer able to distinguish between kin and foe. As Wolfram slipped further and further into near-insanity, the dragons appeared to be spiraling down with him. This was the sixth dragon that had to be killed, and Wolfram could only be thankful that it wasn't Drache. What little control he could still exert, he had already cast upon this sole dragon to stop it from harming others. Or Wolfram himself. It was the least he could do.

"My lord, everyone is wondering. What do we do now…?"

Shinzoku soldiers, attacking from outside. Deranged dragons, trampling, burning, and destroying from within. Wolfram might as well lose control of himself and he'd have the perfect recipe for disaster. Their numbers were dwindling, and if Emil was right and the Shinzoku were planning a full-scale attack, Wolfram knew that they were doomed. If that happened, not only would he have failed in his personal mission, but he would have killed off the entire Ryuzoku race without anything to show for. It was at these moments that Wolfram had difficulty remembering what precisely it was that he came to Raven Port for…

_"For love," the_ voice inside his head answered. Ryuu's face swam in front of his eyes, lips turned up in amusement. _"For absolution. For me."_

"For love," Wolfram muttered under his breath. But who was it that he loved? His country, his uncle, his friends, his mother, his brothers, his daughter, his fiancé… It was terrifying how he had to keep running the list inside his head just so he wouldn't forget them. Would a day come that he wouldn't even know their names?

This was a mistake, Wolfram thought with growing desperation. Shinou's faith in his level of restraint was misplaced. Why didn't Shinou just allow him to die? It would have been easy, killing himself and finally ending this murderous cycle. He would have done Ryuu, Yuuri, himself, and the entire world a huge favor.

"I should have died," Wolfram whispered aloud, giving voice to his thoughts. "This was a mistake…"

Emil shifted uneasily, but otherwise ignored that suicidal comment. "My lord…you do understand that we can't stay here?"

Wolfram glanced up, his gaze, sorrowful. "Emil…you do know that I…I didn't mean for any of this to happen…?"

Emil's face hardened, and his lips pressed into an unforgiving line. Again, he chose to ignore the statement. "If we stay, we die. We _have _to leave."

Wolfram shook his head. He couldn't leave – at least not without Shinou's say-so. And much as he wanted to, he couldn't die here either. That would defeat the purpose of every step he'd painstakingly undertaken just so he could have a chance at saving Ryuu's soul.

_"Then let's kill them all_,_" _Ryuu's voice suggested, and at the words, Wolfram felt a distinct surge of bloodlust rising from within him. Fire worked its way into his arms, down to his fingertips, raring to be released. His mouth nearly formed the start of the incantation before Wolfram realized what he was about to do. Burning every damn Shinzoku to ashes suddenly seemed like a wonderful idea. And easy as hell.

"We don't stand a chance, my lord," Emil said, looking quite alarmed at the change in Wolfram's demeanor. "Please! We need to retreat!"

"No," Wolfram said, and not for the first time, he realized that the voice inside his head had spoken the same thing. "I'll take care of the enemies. Stay away."

"But it's too risky—"

"Leave me be. _Now._"

Emil seemed about ready to protest, but something in Wolfram's expression made him bite his tongue and turn away, all warnings dying on his lips. Alone now with only the voice inside him that spoke of nothing but killing for sport, Wolfram took a second to collect himself. He felt sickened at the very idea of what he was about to do, but he couldn't see any other way around it—

_"Why don't we talk to them first?"_

Wolfram nearly choked with surprise. Where did _that_ come from? The thought was definite not Ryuu's – or his, for that matter. Wolfram fought through his confusion long enough to finally realize whom that catchphrase belonged to. It was Yuuri's. The wimp who always insisted on negotiations…who was forever opposed to violence and armed confrontations… If Yuuri knew what Wolfram was planning to do…if only Yuuri were here, he'd surely—

_"But he isn't here."_

Ryuu's voice was back, contemptuous as ever.

_"You know you can't die here."_

Wolfram closed his eyes, and as always, Ryuu's face materialized in front of him.

_"We have to do this – you know I'm right…"_

Wolfram nodded, surrendering to that illogical argument. Lately, it had become so frighteningly simple to do so. _"I know."_

Ryuu smiled approvingly and raised a ghostly hand to stroke Wolfram's cheek. _"See?"_ He leaned closer until his face was inches away from Wolfram's, close enough to kiss. _"What would you ever do without me?"_

Wolfram stopped to consider the question. Memories intruded into his consciousness, and he knew at once that despite the instability, the uncertainty, and the agony, he could never stray from this course he had chosen.

For Ryuu. For absolution. And—

"For love," Wolfram finished aloud. Then the absurdness of the idea settled upon him, and he started to laugh madly. Love! What a ridiculous notion! Was there even such a thing? And if there was…who was it that he loved?

Wolfram groped around his head for an answer, and he found…nothing.

* * *

><p><em>AN: _

_Hello everyone! Please accept my sincerest apologies for leaving this story (all my stories, in fact) without so much as a note. I have no excuse, and I am so embarrassed posting this now after goodness-knows-how-long. But I'm back because of a simple reason: I have a story to tell, and I'm telling it._

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed and added any of my stories into their list of favorites. Thank you also to those who sent me e-mails and PMs. Your messages are very much appreciated!_


	7. Chapter 6: Reintegration

**Chapter 6: Reintegration**

* * *

><p><em>"I'm fine."<em>

_"Are you sure? It's going to be a long walk, you know."_

_"I know."_

_"So—"_

_"So I'm walking. And I'd better get going if I want to actually be there before nightfall."_

_"I could take you there in ten minutes—"_

_"Can't hear you. Too busy walking."_

_There was a short silence, then an exasperated sigh, followed by a dull thud of boots hitting the ground as Frey disembarked from his steed._

_"Sorry, Drache," Frey muttered. "Not today. _Somebody_" – he threw a dirty look in Ryuu's direction – "is apparently too scared of heights." _

_The dragon growled at Ryuu, evidently displeased at having been rendered unnecessary once again. This wasn't the first time that Ryuu had refused a ride from Frey, after all. With a beating of its wings, Drache – following a mental order from its Rider – launched into the skies, but not without spurting a stream of bluish flames at Ryuu's face first._

_"Nice," Ryuu said, wincing at the burn on his forearm, having raised his arms to shield himself from the dragon's fire. "You know, I have a feeling that Drache doesn't really like me…"_

_Frey rolled his eyes. "Gee, I wonder why."_

_Ryuu smiled, noting that Frey was bursting to say something – probably a lot of things – and was barely restraining himself. _

_"See you in a bit then," Ryuu said, but he had scarcely gone three steps when he heard a grunt, followed by the stomping of feet. Frey had caught up with him in the next second, scowling, all the things he'd been raring to say erupting out of his lips._

_"Ten minutes!" he grumbled. "Just ten minutes! What is it with you and flying? It wouldn't have taken a measly _ten_ minutes for us to get there! You could've have just closed your eyes or something, but no – you insist on _walking! _What are you laughing about?" he demanded, for Ryuu's smile had broadened._

_"You're the only one I know who could make walking sound so abnormal." _

_"Well it is!" Frey burst out, shaking his head. "For us! If we want to go anywhere, we _fly!_" _

_"What are you complaining for?" Ryuu put in. "You're not supposed to come along, aren't you? If I remember correctly, you're supposed to be preparing for your next assignment."_

_"I could do that later."_

_"Your father would find out," warned Ryuu._

_Frey waved a dismissive hand. "I'll tell him I was with you."_

_"And that would work?"_

_"You'd be surprised at the things Father would let go once I drop your name in the conversation," said Frey. "You should hear him talk about you. He's very impressed at how you handled transactions with the other clans. He'd much sooner have you as a son, you know."_

_Ryuu nodded, pleased at the information, because the Lombard patriarch's approval mattered to him as much as Frey's did. Frey, however, looked a little downhearted. _

_"Don't tell me you're jealous!" Ryuu laughed in disbelief, then added more seriously when Frey didn't so much as smile, "Your father thinks highly of you, Frey. Come to think of it, you're the only one we've ever really talked about in length. You're the most important person to him, you should know that."_

_Perhaps that was why he got along well with Lord Garez Lombard, Ryuu thought with realization. They had that particular thing in common – one same person whom they would gladly fight all the world for. Frey shrugged in response, as though Ryuu's words didn't mean anything, but his face looked a little flushed._

_"Besides," Ryuu added, "I don't really fancy becoming a Lombard."_

_"Why not?" Frey demanded at once, carrying on with unmistakable pride in his voice, "We're the best clan there is! We have the best dragons, the widest territory, and—" _

_"—the most number of enemies," Ryuu supplied. "Not very appealing if you want to live to a ripe, old age."_

_"Who would want that?" Frey scoffed. "A life without enemies is boring." He frowned and peered at Ryuu's face. "Wait…is that what _you_ want? A peaceful life?"_

_Frey looked stunned, as though he'd just discovered that Ryuu had an awfully strange fetish. The idea of a violence-free existence must seem so foreign to somebody who had been raised in a clan such as the Lombard._

_"B-but you're an excellent warrior!" Frey protested. "If you fight seriously, even I don't think that I stand a chance—"_

_Ryuu came to a halt so suddenly, forcing Frey to do the same, and before he could stop himself, he had seized Frey's arm in a vise grip. _

_"You shouldn't say that!" _

_"Ryuu…!"_

_Frey's eyes were wide, and Ryuu realized too late that he had sounded so harsh…so insistent…so grave…_

_He drew back. "I'm sorry," he murmured, and more to change the topic, he asked, "Are you really sure you want to come? Maybe you should call Drache back…you could go to the Training Grounds…prepare for your next assignment…"_

_"No," said Frey, and it was a mark of how well they knew each other that the boy didn't press for an explanation to what could be perceived as an overreaction on Ryuu's part. Taking his cue from Ryuu, he said instead, "The next mission's not that big of a deal…"_

_"I heard your father say that it was going to be a tricky one," Ryuu said, grateful that he wasn't badgered to explain anything. It was one of the things that he liked about Frey – he never pushed for information that Ryuu wasn't ready to give, never asked Ryuu anything in return for his friendship… It was convenient, but at the same time, it had the downside of encouraging Ryuu to procrastinate, to put off having to plan what to do should Frey uncover the truth about him. The time would come, Ryuu knew for certain, but if it did, he would deal with the repercussions then. For now…_

_"That clan's quite strong," said Frey. "But I'll figure a way. Might take a while though, given their location. Who would live all the way beyond the Shadow Pass anyway? Oh no," Frey groaned, catching Ryuu's startled expression, "don't tell me that _you_ would?"_

_Ryuu would – or more accurately – he _did_. The secluded lands beyond the Shadow Pass were part of the stronghold of another prominent but extremely secretive Ryuzoku clan. Ryuu felt frozen in place as it dawned upon him who Frey's target was._

_"Don't tell me that you'd rather join the Schwarz clan," Frey snorted, finding the thought funny for some reason. "Because I wouldn't let you."_

_Ryuu didn't laugh. He had never found anything less amusing in his entire life._

* * *

><p>"Shinou said that," Shori clarified for the eighth time. "He really said that—"<p>

"—that we can tell Shibuya the truth," Murata supplied patiently. "Yes, Shori, he did."

Shori paused, seeming to mull this over. He'd been pacing the still-drenched floor so much that he'd managed to pave a dry, rectangular strip on the carpet, marking the spot he'd repeatedly trodden on for the past ten minutes or so. Shori's agitation showed in his face, in his movements, in his voice, and Murata surprised himself by _not_ succumbing to his companion's foul mood.

It wasn't that Murata didn't care about Shibuya's reaction, because he did – perhaps as much, or even more, than Shori did. In this lifetime, he'd been friends with Shibuya Yuuri for nearly four years, and that wasn't to be taken lightly at all. But if Murata were to label his emotions at the moment, the word he'd use would be…resignation. An acceptance of the inevitable, of the rage and hatred that would surely – and justly – be Shibuya's reaction. Yes, Murata had accepted that Shibuya would be immeasurably infuriated over this entire affair. He'd also accepted that there was nothing he could do about it, and that – barring any miraculous circumstance involving Shibuya forgiving them for their reticence – the next minutes would probably herald the end of his friendship with Shori's little brother. It didn't take a sage to know these things.

Shori stopped long enough to repeat another question. "And Shinou is quite sure that he's ready with—?"

"He said he's ready," Murata said, not so patiently this time. "He also said that Lord von Bielefeld's soul is still hidden from the Crypt, but that Gottfried has sent an assassin to track him down." He went on before Shori could throw another question at him, "The assassin is here, but Shinou couldn't tell where he is."

"And you can't either?" asked Shori, directing the query to the third person in the room – the Keeper who had just attacked them, allegedly to test their abilities. On Shinou's orders, of course.

Scarlet smiled, eyes glinting malevolently. "If we knew, we wouldn't have wasted our time on you. We would have apprehended him immediately – or at least we would have tried to."

Shori frowned at the answer. "Assuming that you _are _on our side."

Shori's continuing distrust was the least of Murata's worries, however, as the Keeper's answer swayed his thoughts to a different direction. "_Tried_ to?" he echoed. "You're saying you're not confident that you'd win against this assassin?"

"Shinou didn't explain who Morden is?" Scarlet asked, sounding amused.

Murata felt irked. "He didn't have time."

"But he did tell you how he was summoned?"

"Yes. Gottfried sacrificed his Keeper's own souls—"

"—three hundred Keepers," Scarlet said with emphasis. _"Three hundred souls._ Enough to break the seal on the Forbidden Door."

"Forbidden Door?" asked Shori. "What's that?"

Murata's eyes widened, realizing that he knew what that was, and all at once, he felt a greater appreciation of the danger that they were currently in. What was it that Shinou had said? Assassin was too weak a term to use for their newest adversary. If it was what Murata think it was, then he was inclined to agree wholeheartedly. And if Soul Keepers didn't stand a chance against the enemy, what on Earth could a lone Soul Breaker do? Murata felt a chill, imagining the repercussions of an encounter between Wolfram von Bielefeld and the creature called Morden. He felt his skin prickle uncomfortably as he did so, knowing that the outcome couldn't possibly be in Lord von Bielefeld's favor…

"How long is this going to take?" Murata asked, consumed with a newfound sense of urgency, cutting Scarlet's would-be response to Shori's question. Shori turned to him, annoyed, while Scarlet glanced at him, looking suspicious at the change in his tone.

"What's with you?" Shori asked.

Murata ignored him, addressing the Keeper instead, "You said Shibuya's on the way. Where is he?"

"They should be here," said Scarlet, her eyes taking on a distant glaze. "They should be done by—oh."

The Keeper stopped, frowning. Then without any warning at all, she launched herself away from her spot, skidding the length of the wet floor until she reached the other side of the room.

"What the—?" Shori started, but stopped short when he saw what had caused the Keeper to behave like so.

Murata saw it too. On the very spot where the Keeper had stood a second ago, two people had materialized in a flash of blue light. One was cloaked and masked, like Scarlet – obviously the partner the Keeper had referred to earlier – while the other was…

Murata did a double take. Was that Shibuya? But…what happened to him? He'd taken the Maou's form, long black hair framing a serious-looking face…and his eyes… The eyes that met Murata's were narrowed and livid, the savage eyes of the spirit within, not Shibuya Yuuri's…

"Yuuri…" Shori said, sounding shocked, perhaps noticing what Murata did. "What the…?"

"Traitors," the Maou said in a low whisper. "How could you do this to me?"

Murata glanced at the new Keeper, Scarlet's counterpart, waiting for an introduction as well as an explanation. Like Scarlet, the other Keeper looked like he'd been recently injured, and although his mask remained intact, his clothes suggested that he'd had a more difficult – more brutal – time. Shibuya must have fought back – which was an oddity in itself – but what placed Murata on guard was the unbelievable conclusion that Shibuya had used his abilities _violently_ on this particular individual. Never mind the fact that it was a perceived enemy, because the Shibuya that Murata knew would _never_ inflict such grisly injuries on another person, no matter who it was.

_'The spirit within would,' _a voice inside Murata's head pointed out, but a counterargument presented itself just as quickly. What was the point of bestowing this amount of power to a pure soul when it couldn't be controlled? When it couldn't be tempered and used for the good of others? The quality of Shibuya's soul balanced out the magnitude of his power, ensuring its justified use. At least that was the general idea. At the moment, however, Shibuya didn't appear to be doing anything to restrain his maryoku, instead fueling the power with anger and stoking it with hatred.

Murata wondered what the Keeper had done or said to provoke the peace-loving Shibuya into such a…_dark_…state. He didn't have to guess for long.

"I told him everything, save for the plan," the other Keeper said, as though to answer his unspoken question. "He asked for it."

"And who are you?" demanded Shori before Murata could comment. "What have you done to Yuuri?"

Murata privately thought that if it were a matter of physical condition, the question should be reversed – that it should be more of what Yuuri did to the Keeper rather than the other way around. Scarlet evidently agreed with him, for she eyed her partner with a frown and demanded in a tone that was so similar to Shori's, "What did he do to you?"

The new Keeper shrugged. "Nothing. I didn't know that our young Maou has quite a temper. I was a little unprepared…"

He sounded like he would have gone on, but beside him, Shibuya bristled, and Murata could have sworn that the light around the demon king flickered and turned black…

Murata blinked. "Shibuya," he began apprehensively, "how long have you been in that form?"

The Maou regarded him with cold fury. "What does it matter to you, _Sage_?"

"It matters," said Murata carefully, resisting the urge to flinch under the demon king's glare, "because you are unnecessarily straining yourself. The laws of elemental magic are more stringent in this world. It's going to be more taxing to stay in that form—"

"DO NOT PRETEND TO CARE!" Shibuya roared, voice magnified and uncharacteristically harsh. "DO NOT PRETEND THAT YOU EVEN _CARE_ ABOUT ME! HOW _DARE_ YOU!"

The windows were closed, but a strong burst of wind and water suddenly pushed them back, like the beginnings of a hurricane, with Shibuya at the center. Murata was prepared for it, but he didn't really feel like fighting back. They deserved to be at the receiving end of whatever Shibuya Yuuri chose to fling at them. But the water never reached him, and looking up from where he was seated, he saw that Shori had activated his own maryoku and had shielded them both from the onslaught. The Keepers had done the same thing, standing quietly in the corner, watching.

"YOU BETRAYED ME!" Shibuya continued to rage, his maryoku pulsing uncontrollably. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THE TRUTH?!"

"Yuuri!" Shori interposed, looking disturbed. "Please stop! Let's talk!"

Shibuya laughed madly. "YOU WANT TO TALK _NOW? _WHAT GOOD WILL THAT DO?"

"Yuuri—"

"HE TOLD ME!" Shibuya growled, jabbing a finger at one of the Keepers. "WOLFRAM IS _DYING_! HOW COULD YOU—HOW DID YOU LET HIM—WHY?!"

The last word rang fiercely in the air, demanding an explanation. Murata exchanged an uneasy glance with Shori. This wasn't going the way that they'd planned. Although Murata had foreseen an extremely (but again, justifiably) furious Shibuya, he hadn't counted on a Shibuya that was allowing his demon magic to run amok.

But as he stared into Shibuya's ruthless expression, Murata couldn't find the heart to blame the young king. If anything else, they – Shori and Shinou, included – should have known that this would happen. It was their fault. They had focused way too much on Lord von Bielefeld – who was slowly being tortured into insanity from containing a corrupted soul – that they'd completely overlooked the fact that Shibuya was clearly suffering, too. Innocent and honest Shibuya, whose soul had carefully been shielded from evil, and thus had never shown any predilection toward cruelty and violence, was now staring at them with the air of a man who was ready to strangle them at the slightest provocation.

For a moment, Murata was reminded of Ryuu, and he felt a swooping sensation in his stomach, as though he'd missed a step coming down a flight of stairs. They'd made a mistake. Keeping Shibuya uninformed was supposed to keep him safe – which perhaps it did, from outside forces like the Crypt of Souls – but a fat lot it did with protecting Shibuya from his own self, from being overrun by his own emotions, his own powers. Not for the first time since this fiasco started, Murata felt so utterly powerless. He didn't know what to say to pacify the Maou, and from the same helpless look on Shori's face, Murata knew that the latter didn't have any clue either.

To Murata's grudging appreciation, it was the Keepers who responded.

"Wolfram is dying – not yet dead, Heika," the male Keeper, who stood in silence beside his companion for the past minutes, interjected in an annoyed tone. "A little too early to be giving up on him, isn't it?"

"And while your indignation is touching," Scarlet added with a slight sneer, "you're wasting time. Unless you intend to prolong this argument until Wolfram is dead?"

Shibuya looked confused, but it had the advantage of forcing him to calm down – even just a little.

"I do not—Wolfram is—I am not—"

"You claim that you care about him," the other Keeper goaded, "but you have a really strange way of showing it."

Shibuya was frowning, but the menacing quality in his face had all but disappeared, and to Murata's relief, the king's features were slowly changing so that he looked more human than spirit, more boy than man.

"I _don't_ want Wolfram to die!" Shibuya said vehemently.

"Then let's get down to business, shall we?" Scarlet suggested with another wry smile.

Shibuya was back to normal, the dark aura fading away completely. "Fine!" he said. He seemed weary and weak all of a sudden, but when Shori stepped forward anxiously to help him to a chair, Shibuya stopped his older brother with a venomous look, snapping instead, "What else have you been keeping from me?"

Murata took a deep breath, and to his side, he heard Shori do the same. They exchanged looks of concern, which seemed to irritate Shibuya once more.

"Start talking," Shibuya repeated. He hadn't raised his voice this time but there was an unmistakable force behind the words. "I won't ask again."

Murata recognized the order, and resigning himself to whatever Shibuya's reaction might be, he began to speak.

* * *

><p>Alazon's errand was – in one word – unambiguous. She spoke of a prophecy that apparently indicated the downfall of the entire Shinzoku race, and of ill tidings that obviously – at least to her – meant the fulfillment of a portion of what had been foretold. Much as he wanted to interrupt, Belias contained himself, seeing that Saralegui was admirably keeping his silence throughout Alazon's disturbing monologue.<p>

To another observer, Saralegui would appear rather unperturbed, but Belias knew better. His nephew and his king was upset at Alazon's reappearance, confused and worried at the information his wayward mother had just divulged, and – most of all – troubled at the implications that Alazon's plans might bring. Belias could see where this was going, and he knew Saralegui had also reached the same conclusion: The Shinzoku were marching to war.

"The Ryuzoku are back in the land of the dead," Alazon concluded in a clipped tone. "They are building an army, amassing dragons, and plundering human villages. We intend to stop them."

Saralegui took his time pondering over his mother's words. His eyes flitted briefly to Belias, questioning, as though to inquire, _'What do you think?'_

Belias shook his head imperceptibly, a movement that Alazon's sharp eyes failed to miss.

"We have always known that this would happen," Alazon said, eyeing her brother coldly. "You knew this too, Belias. That is why we were told never to abandon the old mountain outposts."

"The Ryuzoku are too far away for us to bother with," Belias replied with just as much ice in his voice. "I am surprised that you maintained the outposts. Wouldn't the resources be of better use in rebuilding Seisakoku?"

"You forget too easily. The distance never bothered the Ryuzoku before when they despoiled our city."

"On the contrary," said Belias, "my memory is as good as ever. And I remember clearly that you yourself did not believe in such childish nonsense."

"Times change," Alazon said. "I would be a fool not to take certain precautions."

"Precautions," Belias repeated disdainfully. He could not believe that she was doing this again. She abandoned her son and resurfaced years later with some grand scheme to rebuild the Shinzoku. Then having obtained what she needed, she retreated to Seisakoku and was not heard of in a year! Belias could not understand how she still had the gall to re-emerge once more and drag the son she had deserted and neglected – the son who owed her nothing – into another messy fray.

"And while we are on the subject of being surprised," Alazon added, "how could you not inform me that the Ryuzoku were gaining power, when you had prior knowledge of their return? You of all people should understand the danger that they pose to us. They have done it again, have they not? The damage to this city…was it not caused by them?"

"The Ryuzoku are under a new leadership. I do not believe that they would attack unnecessarily."

The air thickened with tension. Alazon's eyes flashed with anger.

"Unnecessarily?" she echoed sternly. "I have lost good soldiers in a fight that could have been prevented if only I was forewarned!"

"And what would you have done if you were?"

There was no need for a verbal response, for the answer was evident on Alazon's face. Belias turned away in disgust, seeking Saralegui's eyes and shaking his head – emphatically this time. He would not allow Saralegui to get involved in this. Going against the Ryuzoku meant being at odds with Wolfram von Bielefeld, whom Saralegui had at least achieved an understanding with after a long period of bitter rivalry. Going against Lord von Bielefeld, in turn, meant incurring the fury of the Maou of Shin Makoku, whom Saralegui considers a friend and an ally. But most of all, targeting the Ryuzoku meant going against the new king of Dai Shimaron – Damien Schwarz – whom Saralegui (even without an explicit admission) might potentially like beyond the bounds of friendship.

In sum, joining Alazon in her vendetta against the Ryuzoku would only be detrimental to Saralegui's personal and political life. Belias could not see anything to gain here – well unless Saralegui merely wished to obtain a portion of his mother's approval, but surely Sara wouldn't…

Belias's thoughts trailed away, as he caught sight of Saralegui's expression and realized that his king was actually _considering_ the idea!

"Sara—" he began, but Alazon interrupted him.

"Sara, the Ryuzoku are dangerous. You have seen what they did to this country. You must understand. They must be stopped."

Saralegui looked thoughtful. "Why are you telling me this?"

Alazon frowned at the question, as though the answer should be obvious.

"You are my heir," she stated flatly. "Seisakoku is your home too. You have the right to claim it, as well as a duty to defend it from threats."

"Shou Shimaron is your home," Belias corrected. "And the Ryuzoku are hardly a threat. That Mazoku – the fire-wielder – who led the Riders to the mountains…you know who that is."

Saralegui nodded. "Lord von Bielefeld. So _that's_ where he has gone…"

"The Maou will be very interested to hear about Lord Wolfram's location."

"Yes," Saralegui agreed. "But what exactly is he doing there in the first place?"

Belias had no answer to that, but he sure as hell did not but Alazon's explanation either. He understood his sister's fear of having to watch the Shinzoku fall again, but unlike her, Belias refused to be led on by the words of a fortune-teller.

"It was the fire-wielder who killed my soldiers," said Alazon. "This Mazoku that you speak of, he was the one who led the charge, the one who burned my soldiers without a shred of mercy."

"That couldn't be true," said Saralegui, brows furrowed. "Are you sure…?"

Alazon lifted a hand and made a long, sweeping gesture. Something green and leafy sprouted out of the tips of her fingers – vines, Belias realized – that twisted and rapidly took shape. A body formed from the mass, as the leaves transformed into flesh, mimicking the form of a human being – a familiar person. With a final rustle of leaves and twigs falling into place, a replica of a fair-haired boy stood before them. He looked exactly as Belias remembered, except for the eyes. He thought for a second that Alazon had made a mistake – Wolfram von Bielefeld's eyes were green, not silvery-white – but then his memory made the ominous connection…

Ryuu's eyes! What is the meaning of this…?

Saralegui seemed to be a step ahead of him. "Well, I guess that explains it," he said, "why Lord von Bielefeld needed to leave."

"You believe that he killed all of those people?" Belias asked.

"I don't think that…she…is lying," Saralegui said, glancing at Alazon, who flinched a little at the way she had been addressed by her own son. "He attacked mercilessly, didn't he? Who do we know who'd do something like that, Belias?"

"Lord Ryuu is dead," Belias said.

"Yes, I know," agreed Saralegui. "But with all the talk we've had about souls…I've always wondered…whatever happened to Lord Ryuu's soul?"

"Wait…you said that Lord Wolfram was destined to destroy Lord Ryuu's soul. Isn't that what Lord Damien had said?"

Saralegui nodded. "Yes, but he didn't know either how the process is done. Yes, Lord von Bielefeld killed Lord Ryuu, but did he really destroy Lord Ryuu's soul?"

"So you are saying that…"

"Something has gone wrong," said Saralegui. "I've been wondering all this time why Lord von Bielefeld needed to go away, and based on his prior actions, I'm guessing it has something to do with protecting Yuuri. This should explain it then. I don't know how or why it happened, but I think the way Lord von Bielefeld is right now has something to do with Lord Ryuu's soul."

Belias took this in. "So what do you want to do now, Sara?"

Saralegui returned his gaze to Alazon. "You said that you plan to stop the Ryuzoku? How do you intend to do that?"

"We shall obliterate every last one of them," Alazon stated without even missing a beat.

Saralegui was quiet for a moment. Then he repeated, "Every last one?"

"Yes." Alazon hesitated, before adding, "Including Damien Schwarz of Dai Shimaron."

"You intend to have him killed, then?" said Saralegui, his expression, inscrutable. "You understand that targeting Lord von Bielefeld and Dam—Lord Schwarz means going to war with Shin Makoku and Dai Shimaron?"

"I do not intend to show my hand unless it is necessary," said Alazon stiffly.

"And so you plan on using me?"

Alazon ignored this. "I am giving you a choice and a warning. Stand with us, or forsake your people – that is entirely up to you."

Saralegui's expression did not change, but Belias could see his king's fists furling tight into a ball.

"How long do I have to think about this?" Saralegui asked after a moment.

"I need an answer now," said Alazon.

Belias thought that Saralegui would finally lose his temper, but to the king's credit, he merely leaned forward, eyes wary and cold.

"Fine, _Mother_," Saralegui said. "I'll see what I can do for you, but of course I'll require some sort of compensation."

Alazon blinked, looking mildly surprised. "Compensation?"

"Take your pick – Lord von Bielefeld, Lord Schwarz, or your throne." Saralegui smiled grimly. "Which are you willing to give up for my cooperation?"

Alazon looked taken aback, and Belias shared the feeling. He wondered whether Alazon could tell the true meaning behind her son's words, that aside from imposing a set of improbable choices for his mother to pick from, Saralegui – in his own unorthodox way – had done the same for himself.

Lord Wolfram, Lord Damien, or the Seisakoku throne. Belias did not miss the implications of the options Saralegui would later confront. Friendship, love, or power. At an earlier time, Saralegui had nothing going on for him but power – it was all his king had ever craved and strived for. Given the events of the past months, however, Belias was glad that Saralegui had made space for more than just the pursuit of power in his life. The king's heart, which Belias had always feared was beyond saving, had finally found both friendship and love. It was ironic that one of these two could potentially destroy Saralegui now.

"Very well," said Alazon. "You may have my throne."

To Belias's surprise, Saralegui laughed.

"You really do believe this prophecy!" he exclaimed. "To what end? To the point of giving up your throne for as long as every last person with Ryuzoku blood on him is exterminated?"

"I will not watch my people fall for a second time," said Alazon in an injured tone. "That is all that matters to me."

Saralegui subsided. "Fair enough. So what do you expect me to do?"

"Sara," Alazon answered, and to Belias, she sounded vaguely pleading, "I expect you to take our side."

Saralegui said nothing for a beat, but merely stared into his mother's eyes. Belias gritted his teeth, knowing that he could do nothing at this point but wait for Saralegui's decision.

"Fine," Saralegui eventually said. "Would that be all?"

"Yes," said Alazon curtly. She looked as though she would like to say more, but seeming to think better of it, she shook her head slightly, then brandished her arm in another strange motion. "I shall see you again."

A moment later, she was gone.

Belias stood in silence in the aftermath of that conversation. Saralegui seemed deep in thought, but when he finally stirred and glanced up, Belias was frustrated to see an odd smile on his king's lips.

"It looks like you'll be getting your wish, Belias," said Saralegui in a mock cheerful tone. "I've decided that we're going to Dai Shimaron."

"And what are you going to do there?" Belias asked in trepidation.

"Believe it or not," Saralegui answered in the same flippant tone that almost certainly belied his true feelings, "I have no idea."

* * *

><p>Yuuri grappled with his incredulity and disgust, listening to Murata recount the story of Ryuu's existence and subsequent demise (It sounded worse, coming from him), up until the point where Shinou revealed to them that there was another way to resolve the situation. At this, Murata paused and shared another look with Shori, as though they were mutely consulting each other. One of the Keepers, the red-eyed girl, cleared her throat impatiently.<p>

"Tell him," she said. "There's no point in keeping this secret. Gottfried is already on the move."

Murata seemed reluctant to proceed, and taking matters into his own hands, Yuuri demanded, "Out with it. What is Shinou planning? Where did he tell Wolfram to go?"

"Shinou didn't tell us where Wolfram is, in case we get captured by the Crypt," Shori replied, then continued quickly, seeing Yuuri's darkening expression, "But we have a very good idea where he is, and he is safe. Shinou promised us that."

"And why did he ask Wolfram to leave?"

"Do you remember what we talked about before?" asked Shori. "You know, when we got pushed back to earth?"

Yuuri nodded impatiently.

"You felt it back then, didn't you? That you and Ryuu were connected somehow. Ryuu weakened when he got near you…but at some point, when you were too exhausted, the opposite happened – Ryuu grew stronger and you—"

"—I lost my maryoku," Yuuri supplied, now comprehending that baffling point some months before, when he wasn't able to access his magic at all. "Is that the reason why Wolfram left?"

It was Murata who answered. "There are two reasons, actually, and yes this is one of them. You see, since Lord von Bielefeld absorbed Ryuu's soul, he has also taken in Ryuu's burden. Lord von Bielefeld's soul and your own soul would repel one another. And since you have the original claim to life…"

"Wolfram would suffer if I get too close to him," Yuuri concluded.

Murata nodded gravely. "Yes. More accurately, his soul would start to unravel, causing him a significant amount of pain."

Something didn't add up, and Yuuri quickly pinpointed what that was.

"Wolfram came here to say goodbye," he said. "He seemed fine to me. And besides, Ryuu stayed at Blood Pledge Castle while I was there, didn't he? He didn't seem to be in pain that entire time."

"That was because Shinou bestowed his protection upon Lord von Bielefeld," Murata explained. "Weisser did the same thing for Ryuu."

"And why couldn't Shinou continue doing that for Wolf?"

"Because he couldn't," said Murata simply. "One day was all Shinou could manage. And his strength and attention were directed elsewhere after that."

At that last sentence, everyone in the room seemed to shift tensely, and Yuuri knew that they had finally touched upon the core of the matter – Shinou's plans.

"Shibuya…" Murata started, and there was a beseeching note in his voice, "I recognize how cruel this must come across to you, but please understand that this is a decision that Lord von Bielefeld was forced to make given the circumstances."

"He was driven into a corner, wasn't he?" Yuuri asked quietly. "Shinou manipulated him into agreeing, wasn't that it?"

"Yuuri," Shori said reasonably, "it was Wolfram's choice to take this chance. Otherwise, the only option left for him would be to kill himself – which is what the Crypt wanted. You wouldn't want that either, would you?"

Yuuri had a brief vision of a fire, accompanied by the memory of what it had felt like to _burn_, and he stiffened.

"That's why Wolfram tried to kill himself."

"Yes," said Murata. "And it was a good thing that you managed to stop him that time."

Yuuri scoffed, his temper flaring once more. "Why? So that he could suffer for one month and then die alone, away from his family? From me?"

"Depends on whether that is what you want," Silver inserted.

Something inside Yuuri stirred, a churning within his chest that made it difficult to breathe. The man's words struck a nerve, and for the first time, another emotion filtered through the dense haze that clouded and numbed his senses – shame. He'd been so hurt, so furious, and yes, so jealous, that he'd neglected to factor in Wolfram's condition. Why wasn't Yuuri scrambling to save him? What was he still doing here, when he should be by Wolfram's side? When he should be risking everything to save the person that he loved?

_Save him…or destroy him. _

Silver's earlier words came back to him, and Yuuri balked as his options became clear. He was reminded of Shinou, who had done pretty much the same thing that Wolfram was doing now – containing a dark soul within him. Shinou had intended to be destroyed, along with Soushou. Surely Wolfram wasn't planning the same thing, was he? Otherwise, he could have just done something to complete his attempted suicide…

No. Wolfram was clearly planning to save Ryuu's soul, but how the hell did he intend to accomplish that? What did Shinou tell Wolfram? What promises did the Original King make? Once again, Yuuri felt his anger at Shinou surging to the fore. How he wished that he'd let the Original King perish with Soushou. How he wished that he hadn't found a way to destroy Soushou without damaging Shinou's soul—

"It doesn't need to go to that," said Murata, reclaiming Yuuri's attention. "There is still a way to save Lord von Bielefeld. And Ryuu, too."

Something inside Yuuri's head clicked, and all the cogs that had been turning in separate directions seemed to stop and spin in unison, in one harmonious motion, pointing Yuuri toward one glaring fact. Yuuri had saved the Original King before. Yuuri had gotten rid of Soushou – _without damaging Shinou's soul!_

"You see, Shibuya, after that battle with Soushou," Murata continued, "you gained powers over that of Shinou, powers that made you capable of travelling between worlds on your own, powers that made you destroy Soushou without damage to the host soul, or to your own…"

Yuuri nodded. He knew that already, but now he understood the implications as well. And through the hurt and anger, he felt the stirrings of a new emotion that could be excitement – or hope. He could do it again – use Morgif to draw out Ryuu's soul, and then destroy Ryuu for good…! The idea died down in the next instant, as Yuuri realized bitterly that that wasn't what Wolfram wanted.

He felt confused all over again. He thought he'd figured it out, but no matter how he looked at it, the only one he could save in that scenario was Wolfram. There wasn't any way he could save Ryuu's soul, too. Then, how did he fit into Shinou's plan?

"Gottfried never realized it," Murata added, taking Yuuri's silence as a cue to go on. "He saw you as a mere prototype of a pure and noble soul, and he never realized that you had gained powers beyond his imagination. He never considered the possibility that you are now more powerful than him."

"What do you mean?" Yuuri asked. From what he'd been told about this leader of the Crypt of Souls, Gottfried had come across to Yuuri as an almighty being – a god that surpassed even Shinou. How could he – Yuuri – be more powerful than this heavenly individual who had control over the _souls_ of men?

Murata seemed to sense his disbelief, for he smiled encouragingly. "There is another thing…do you remember Janus?"

Janus – the deranged man who attacked Shin Makoku nearly two years ago, propelled by Alazon, the Shinzoku's queen and Saralegui's long-lost mother. Janus – the unfortunate man whom they later found to be…a part of Murata himself…

"You…" said Yuuri slowly, staring at the sage, as though he was seeing Murata for the first time. "You and him…Janus was once a part of you, and you…_absorbed_ him…" He felt winded, guessing what was coming next. "And you want me to do the same with _Ryuu_!"

It wasn't an appealing prospect, because the very thought of Ryuu – that raving lunatic who had murdered so many of Yuuri's people – had the effect of driving Yuuri to contemplate murder himself. Add the fact that Ryuu had also taken a part of Wolfram's heart – and according to Silver, a part of Wolfram's soul, too – made Yuuri completely averse to the idea of saving the man's soul. Much more _merging_ with him to do that!

"Shinou plans a reintegration of souls," said Murata, confirming Yuuri's suspicions. "Yours and Ryuu's.

For a stunned moment, Yuuri couldn't speak. Then he stuttered, "You want me to—I can't—that's—I don't—that's—but—"

His disgust was rendering him incoherent, Yuuri realized. He stopped to draw a deep breath, hoping to relax just enough to convey his revulsion at what he was expected to do. Why didn't anybody ever ask him whether he wanted this? It was unfair to fling this at his face, knowing that Yuuri didn't have the option to draw back, not when Wolfram's life – when Wolfram's soul – hang in the balance.

"Why didn't you just tell me this before?" Yuuri demanded. "Why wait an entire _month_ when you could've just told me—"

"We found out too late," said Shori quietly. "Remember when we arrived in the other world, Wolfram had already killed Ryuu and absorbed his soul?"

"But Shinou knew from the start, didn't he?" Yuuri pressed on. "Why didn't he—?"

"Because, Shibuya," interrupted Murata, "it was impossible then. Ryuu's soul was too corrupted, too unstable. If you'd attempted a reintegration back then, you'd have both died."

"But you and Janus—"

Murata cut him short again. "Yes, Janus was corrupted, and in theory, he and I should have both perished when we merged."

"But you didn't," said Yuuri blankly.

Murata smiled. "Yes, we didn't. And I think you remember why that is. Do you remember what you did?"

Yuuri turned his mind's eye back to that time…Janus was out of control…Shinou had wanted to destroy him…Murata, too, had joined the scrimmage with the same intention…But then Yuuri had interfered and…

"You did something to Janus's soul that no one had ever done before," said Murata. "Something that made it possible for me to take that soul fragment back. Shinou had realized then that it was powerful magic, of the kind that not even Shinou himself or Gottfried could perform…but _you_ did, Shibuya."

"Of course Shinou had to keep that quiet," added Shori. "If the Crypt had known what you could do, they'd have kidnapped you a long time ago, Yuuri. Or worse. Gottfried's very obsessed about it."

"But what did I do?" Yuuri asked.

"He doesn't know," Silver laughed, shaking his head.

"You didn't understand it?" the other Keeper – Scarlet – asked incredulously. "You did that without knowing it?"

Yuuri scowled. "Did what exactly?"

"Shibuya," said Murata deliberately, "you may not realize it, but that time…you did something that was unheard of. You purified Janus's soul."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Must continue writing. Must continue writing. Hahaha. So there you have it – a portion of Shinou's plans. Any guesses how this would play out? I think I mentioned this in passing in Soul Hunters, that arc about Murata and Janus, and how I believe Janus was also some form of a split soul. My assumptions – and this story, by extension – are based on the anime. I haven't read the novels, so none of the events there would be alluded to in this story. _

_Next chapter: Back to Shin Makoku._

_Thank you for the reviews! I have missed reading them_


	8. Chapter 7: Lost and Last Chances

**Chapter 7: Lost and Last Chances**

* * *

><p><em>No matter how much Frey tried to hide it, Ryuu could tell that the boy was over the moon about his next assignment. Frey loved the challenge, the uncertainty of victory, and the fact that he had been entrusted with this particular task boosted his pride to sky-high levels. <em>

_On the other hand, for reasons that he could not tell Frey just yet, Ryuu's feelings on the matter were completely contradictory. Was there a higher power somewhere out there who was bent on playing a prank on him? Or was this the universe's way of telling him that the sweet interlude between his creation and his inevitable demise must now come to an end? He'd been reprieved, for one year, for millions of precious, precious hours that he had been fortunate enough to spend with Frey. Perhaps this was Fate telling him that this fantasy of a life that he had hatched for himself was finally over._

_Ryuu felt sad, yes, but he had long accepted that this would happen. Besides, he was as ready as he could ever be. He had laid out his plans. He had instructed Weisser about the things he needed to get done once he was dead. Frey's memories. Frey's soul. Frey's reincarnation. Ryuu had meticulously accounted for everything. At the end of the day, Ryuu felt that he had done his best._

_For the next days, Frey couldn't seem to talk about anything else except for his impending mission. Ryuu put up with the chatter about his former clan, even if every mention of the Schwarz name was like a dagger to the heart. Ryuu wondered if somebody from the clan stayed at the manor. He knew a few survived the…massacre. Would they have lingered? Ryuu was sure that no one would come after him. They were too injured, too aware of their own limitations. The strongest clan of all – the Schwarz clan – had crumbled like dried clay beneath Ryuu's fingers. _

_He was a monster – and Frey was about to see for himself._

'Stop him!'_ a voice was urging Ryuu. _'Don't let him go!'

_He had thought about it. If he were to ask Frey to stay, if he were to beg Frey _not_ to go…_

_"You don't have to go, you know," Ryuu finally managed to say._

_Frey tore his eyes from an array of weapons he had been inspecting and scowled at him. "Oh please. Not you too."_

_"The Schwarz clan is strong," Ryuu said, a feeble argument that convinced no one, least of all, Frey. "They all look dangerous."_

_"And I don't?" demanded Frey, pouting. He backtracked almost immediately. "Wait, don't answer that." _

_Ryuu couldn't help but smirk. "Dangerous" was the last word in any language that he'd use to describe Frey, and he told Frey so. Frey was disgruntled, but Ryuu merely chuckled at the boy's expression. Besides, this was most likely going to be the last time that they'd be together like this, like friends who could take the leap into something much deeper, more intimate. Why not make the most of it?_

_It was then that Ryuu had plucked the courage to reach out and pull Frey into an embrace. It was brief, a passing comfort, a moment that Ryuu resolutely committed to memory, because he knew it was certainly going to be the last. _

_"Come back quickly, alright?" Ryuu whispered, a plea that he knew wouldn't change anything._

_Frey was flustered, but he returned the embrace just the same, muttering a final word. "Idiot."_

_Ryuu laughed, then he pulled back and allowed Frey to go._

_It was time for Frey to know the truth._

* * *

><p>It was a stormy night.<p>

Cedric watched in trepidation as the raging winds slashed through the trees with the reckless abandon of a stampeding dragon, slamming against the bare rocks of the cliffside, where he had concealed himself. He shivered, attempting – but failing miserably – to wring any amount of heat from the rags that comprised his tattered uniform. It was a bitter night of spying on the enemy camp, and the fact that he was almost half-wishing to be captured was enough indication of just how wretched he felt at the moment.

Cedric's attention wandered to the horizon, where a soft orange glow could be discerned against the blackness of the night. His comrades had told him that the enemy soldiers were camped along that area. The flickering light could be campfires, Cedric thought foolishly, but then he quickly chastised himself for being stupid. Nobody could possibly coax a fire in the middle of this storm, in the midst of all this rain.

But these were Shinzoku, the race of the gods. Fair to behold, but cruel and terrible creatures who killed without remorse. Cedric had never fought one before; he had once been deemed too young for battle, and was thus placed into the employ of the Tamers, running errands and guarding the dragon barriers. He wasn't even allowed to join the Tamers when they had set out months before to capture wild dragons. But his youth wasn't a subject of concern any longer, simply because there weren't enough able-bodied soldiers to do what needed to be done. They must protect the city, although how the Master proposed to do so when they were severely outnumbered, was beyond him.

"We're going to die," Cedric whispered to himself, articulating the hopelessness of his clan's situation.

And somewhere in the darkness, a malevolent voice answered, "Yes, you are."

Cedric swiveled around in panic, noting the pale face and sharp amber eyes of his assailant, before he was callously thrown backward against a boulder. There was no time to think. Without even pausing to catch his breath, he scrambled on his feet and prepared to run. The only problem was, there were more of the enemy, and they surrounded him even before he could take a faltering step forward.

_'I'm going to die,'_ Cedric thought this time, and it nearly sounded like a welcome consequence. He was no longer cold, and in his despair, the idea of dying didn't seem so bad after all.

The Shinzoku soldiers advanced, and regardless of the circumstances, Cedric couldn't help but admire the enemies' features. They were beautiful, light-skinned, with halos of hair that were as bright as gold. And yet they were terrible at the same time. Their eyes were cold and shrewd, narrowed in unforgiving slants as they gazed down at him. The tremors returned and shook Cedric's entire body. He was going to die.

"It's just a boy," one of the men said.

"What is he doing away from the city?"

"A deserter?" asked another.

"He's a scout," a man pointed out in disgust. "He's armed."

The atmosphere thickened. As one, the enemies regarded him with probing looks, perhaps assessing his value as a prisoner.

"What do we do with him?"

"A Ryuzoku is no use as a captive," said one, the oldest in the group. "They are bound to their Master. They could not speak of him."

That wasn't entirely true, Cedric thought. They could talk about the Master just fine, although they could never physically attack him.

"Is that really true?" asked another in a dubious tone.

"All the rest we'd captured before couldn't even speak his name," the Shinzoku in the middle said. "The dragon Master has full control of his clan."

"So this boy is…"

"Utterly useless," finished the oldest Shinzoku.

The group fell silent. A collective decision seemed to materialize a moment later, and Cedric knew for certain that it wasn't in his favor. He was going to die.

"I shall do it," the oldest in the group volunteered, pressing forward. The others left without comment. Cedric could do nothing but watch them and accept his fate.

They were all dying anyway. His friends. His clan. The dragons. Whoever said that it was going to be different this time, with another Master at the helm? Cedric had hoped – as did a majority of the clan – that Wolfram von Bielefeld would be different, in spite of the fact that he was of another race. There had been some confusion as to whether the rules of accession applied to a Mazoku, but as soon as Lord Wolfram killed Lord Ryuu in combat, everything was decided. They had all felt it – a stirring somewhere deep within that meant that their lives were now tied to another leader. Cedric had felt it too – a compulsion to protect and obey and serve the new Master of the Ryuzoku, an inescapable bond with Wolfram von Bielefeld that could only be severed in death. His death or the Master's.

But the event of Lord Wolfram dying was unlikely – not that no one had planned and thought about the Master's demise in length. Cedric had heard the older Ryuzoku talk about it in whispers, with as much venom as they had when they'd similarly tried to orchestrate Lord Ryuu's death. The mutterings were worse this time though, for a significant number didn't think it was right that a _Mazoku_ was ruling over them. At least Lord Ryuu was legitimately a Ryuzoku to start with, but Lord Wolfram wasn't, and it just wasn't right.

Perhaps this was why the captured Ryuzoku lied about not being able to talk about the Master. Much as they resented and hated Lord Wolfram, Cedric knew that they would rather have the Mazoku rather than a Shinzoku installed at the head of the clan. If the city fell, and Lord Wolfram dies at the hand of a Shinzoku, then they would surely all be killed, too. If not, the Shinzoku would definitely turn them into slaves. When Lord Wolfram insisted on staying in the city rather than take the prudent step and retreat, they all knew that this was going to be their last stand. They had no choice but to fight.

But that wasn't right, too, for there _was_ another option. Cedric had heard this mentioned several times, before Emil – overhearing the theories and suggestions – put a stop to it with a few, logical words. There was a probable solution to their dilemma, and just like before, it led them to a single person – Lord Damien Schwarz. The one person with Ryuzoku blood who hadn't made a pact to serve Lord Wolfram. If Lord Damien could be persuaded to challenge Lord Wolfram. If Lord Damien were to defeat Lord Wolfram in battle…

But that wouldn't happen. Emil had said so. Lord Damien would _never_ fight Lord Wolfram, and even if that were at all possible, Lord Wolfram would _never_ be beaten by Lord Damien. Brothers though they may be, Lord Damien wasn't nearly as powerful as Lord Ryuu, and if Lord Ryuu himself who was the strongest among them was killed, what chance did Lord Damien have? Besides, Lord Damien was now the ruler of Dai Shimaron, opting to live more as a human rather than a Ryuzoku. Even if he were to come to their aid, it would be too late.

And that was that.

Now that he thought about everything – Cedric reflected in his final seconds – it seemed to him that the Ryuzoku were a doomed race from the very start. Tonight, he wasn't going to be any different. He was going to prove that right once more. He was going to die.

"Sorry boy," said the Shinzoku, as he unsheathed a dagger from his waist and set the sharp edge against Cedric's throat. "It would be better this way."

Cedric agreed. There was a yell, a surprised grunt, and a horrible gurgling sound of somebody drowning in his own blood – and after a baffled moment, Cedric was staggered to discover that it wasn't him.

The Shinzoku soldier was twitching before him, gasping, partly hidden from view by a cloaked form, who had somehow squeezed in between Cedric and the enemy, turning the tables around at a most crucial second. A breeze gusted over them, ruffling the newcomer's hood, revealing his face. Cedric froze, more horrified at his rescuer's appearance than the Shinzoku's failed attempt to slit his throat.

"What are you still doing here, Cedric?" Lord Wolfram asked impassively.

Cedric felt his stomach clench with dread, both dismayed and astounded that the Master still remembered his name.

"I have given orders for everyone to pull out of this area," Lord Wolfram went on in the same disinterested voice.

Cedric gulped. "I-I was assigned to keep an eye on the enemy camp, m-my lord," he answered apprehensively. "They're drawing near, and I—"

"I told Emil," said Lord Wolfram, as though he hadn't heard him, "that anyone who does not wish to die should return to the center. Do you want to die, Cedric?"

The Master wasn't looking at him. He was staring straight ahead, as the other Shinzoku soldiers – perhaps hearing their fallen comrade's cry – all came hurtling back, weapons at the ready. Still, Lord Wolfram appeared to be waiting for Cedric's response.

"I-I didn't know," Cedric whispered, unable to take his gaze off the Master's face. How had he ever thought of this person as somebody who could be trusted? When Cedric had first met him, he remembered being instantly amazed at the Mazoku's abilities. His first day at the Ryuzoku camp, Lord Wolfram had approached Drache, the most unmanageable of all the dragons, and had taken it out for a ride. From that day on, Cedric had always been in awe of Lord Wolfram's powers. When he found out that Lord Wolfram was going to be their new Master, Cedric had initially been ecstatic. He didn't know Lord Wolfram very well, but the Mazoku had seemed so kind, and so noble, and so unbelievably beautiful…

Cedric shook his head. He couldn't see the beauty anymore in the Master's face. There was a darkness there that defiled his once-stunning features. His eyes – so clear and so green when Cedric had first met him – now looked dull and cruel. And as Cedric watched, the irises in Lord Wolfram's eyes slowly lost their color and turned paper-white.

"I said everyone who did not wish to die should leave me alone," Lord Wolfram said softly, as if he was speaking to himself. "That was not too hard to understand, was it?"

"M-my lord?"

"No, that was not too hard to understand," said Lord Wolfram, answering his own question.

Cedric was pressed so hard against the boulder, wanting to melt into the rocks and never be seen again. Nothing had changed. He was still going to die. Given the choice, Cedric thought he would much rather that the Master had let the Shinzoku did the honors. That seemed to be a kinder way to depart this life, as opposed to getting caught in the midst of whatever violent plans Lord Wolfram had in store for the Shinzoku.

"So if I kill them," Lord Wolfram continued, "it would not be my fault, would it?"

Cedric could no longer speak. The winds howled, and the rain battered down upon him, engulfing him in a frigid embrace.

"No," Lord Wolfram assured himself, "it is _not_ my fault."

A ball of fire erupted out of the Master's palm, illuminating the night with a scorching, red-orange glow. No one could coax a fire in the middle of this storm, Cedric thought again. But Lord Wolfram was a fire Mazoku and the Master of the dragons. Fire was in his very soul, and no amount of rain could dampen the blaze he had summoned.

Lord Wolfram moved, flitting so fast that he appeared to be a mere streak of color – black from the cloak he was wearing, and then alternating shades of blue, red, and orange from the flames he was wielding.

There were consecutive cries of both pain and surprise, and the Shinzoku soldiers burned. Cedric turned away from the carnage, waiting, waiting, waiting for everything to stop.

And then he knew it would be his turn.

* * *

><p>"Heika, may I present Lady Grendel of the House of Stein."<p>

Another House. Another girl. How many had there been? Damien had already lost count. From his seat upon the platform of the throne room, Damien peered down at this newest source of aggravation, forcing himself to smile and acknowledge the pretty, long-haired girl who stepped forward boldly at the introduction and curtsied before him.

"My lady," said Damien mechanically. "Welcome to the court. I trust that you are well?"

"Very well, Heika," Lady Grendel answered, smiling brightly. "It was an honor for Heika to have summoned me."

Damien didn't, but what was the point of telling her that? Somebody else had undoubtedly arranged for the girl to be at the palace, perhaps to be presented as another potential bride.

"I was hoping for a private audience with Heika," the girl added.

_'You and everybody else,' _thought Damien wearily. He was prepared to decline, as he did to the others before her, but then a jovial voice interrupted him.

"Oh give the girl a break, Heika," said a rotund man with a balding head, who came loping out of nowhere. Damien recognized him from one of the meetings he'd had with the nobility, although he had never spoken directly to the man before – Lord Victor Stein. _ 'Wait…_' thought Damien with dawning comprehension, at the same time that he noticed the similarities between the girl and the man. _'Stein?'_

"Father!" Grendel shrieked delightedly, throwing her arms around the man's neck. "How exciting! I thought I'd never get to see the court! And to be here like this! Oooh, the other girls were _so_ jealous!"

"My daughter, Grendel," boomed Lord Stein unnecessarily, giving the girl a one-armed hug while beaming at Damien at the same time. "Just arrived from Francia. Sent for her as soon as I heard the good news! The House of Stein is very honored, Heika. I can't tell you how much we…"

The man trailed away, and much to Damien's embarrassment, the man's voice trembled. He sniffed noisily, and then shed what seemed to be fat tears of joy.

"Oh _don't_ cry!" Grendel chided. "You should be _happy…"_

And to Damien's horror, she started to sob as well, so that they – father and daughter – stood there in the middle of the hall, bawling like two overgrown babies. Just as Damien had worked up the courage to interrupt and dismiss them, the waterworks ceased, and Grendel and Lord Stein turned to face him with matching expressions of jubilation.

"S-s-sorry about that," said Lord Stein, hiccupping. "Was c-c-carried away. Don't know what I was thinking."

"Right," said Damien, already half-rising from his chair. Maybe it was best to conduct the rest of his business in his private chambers. "Well, I'll leave you two then to…to catch up."

"Oh no, no, no," Lord Stein declined effusively. "Don't mind me, Heika. Grendel didn't come all the way here for _me_. No, no. We'll all go and leave you two alone. Give you time to get to know one another, alright?" he added with a wink.

Damien failed to see why he would want to "be alone" and "get to know" the man's daughter when he had more important matters to attend to, but Lady Grendel squealed in excitement and blurted out, "Thank you so much, Heika! I will try my best to be the finest queen you could ever hope to marry."

And that explained it. Damien should have known. This girl wasn't just a candidate; she'd already been chosen. She was going to be his queen – his future wife – and as per usual, he had no hand in the selection whatsoever. He thought that the point of being king was that he had power over a kingdom, but why was he experiencing the complete opposite? The kingdom had gained control of him, and now, he'd lost command over his personal life as well.

Damien sighed. He could remember a time when he'd had this same feeling of helplessness – when his parents had died, his brother had gone into hiding, and he had nowhere to go. He'd been so lost back then, so empty and aimless. But now that he'd found his way back, why had the universe conspired to make everything so damn complicated?

Damien returned his gaze to the smiling girl before him. He had almost forgotten about this – particularly because he had also tried so hard to repress the memories of his impending marriage – but everything came crashing back with an exasperating twinge. Damien struggled with his emotions for a second, resisting the impulse to roll his eyes.

"It's…a pleasure to meet you, but I…" he started, but before he could elaborate, Lord Stein boomed to the room at large, "You heard Heika. Let us all adjourn to the next room and leave them be."

The occupants of the room filed out obediently, as though Damien himself had given the order, and within seconds, he was alone with Lady Grendel Stein. His…fiancée.

"Great," Damien blurted out without meaning to. Just great. His own subordinates were taking orders from everybody else except from him, and he was about to get married to a girl he'd only just met. How else could his life be possibly more screwed up that it already was?

"Isn't it?" Grendel piped in, beaming. "You will not regret choosing me, Heika."

Damien had to remind himself that it wasn't Grendel's fault. She was probably forced into this too, although that possibility was becoming less and less likely, given her gratuitous amount of enthusiasm over their sudden engagement. What did Lord Stein say? Give the girl a break? If only it were that easy. With her appearance piled on top of everything else, Damien couldn't help himself from _hating_ her.

He hadn't chosen her. He didn't want to be with her.

He didn't _love_ her!

But as with every event that came to pass since he became king of Dai Shimaron, Damien knew that it didn't matter. His objections, his thoughts, his decisions, his feelings – none of these remotely mattered anymore. He was king. This was his burden. If anything else, he should consider this his payback for all his past transgressions. None of this would have happened if he hadn't left the country to the mercy of usurpers like Belal and Ranjeel, or to greedy, power-hungry officials like his own uncle. Yes, it was his fault. He had no right to protest, no conceivable reason to shrink back from his royal duties.

It was with this grim thought that Damien finally acknowledged defeat. He beckoned to Lady Grendel, watching her with barely-concealed dislike as she eagerly ascended the steps toward the throne. Toward him.

Lady Grendel curtsied once again, and with a little shake of the head, Damien remembered his manners and he stood up to take her hand. As he moved to kiss the girl's gloved fingers, Damien had a brief, horrid vision of his future. This would never end, would it? What had he consigned himself into? What had he willingly become? A fool of a king. A husband to a stranger he didn't have the slightest trace of feelings for. A father to children he couldn't guarantee that he'd love. He was a farce. He was no king, and he sure as hell couldn't possibly be fit to be a husband or a father. And if he wasn't any of the three, what did that make him?

Damien froze, and much to Lady Grendel's confusion, withdrew his hand in midair. Her own arm was still lifted slightly in anticipation of a kiss that would never come.

Damien regarded her without emotion. "My lady…I think that your journey has been a waste."

"H-heika?"

"I'm not going to marry you," said Damien simply. He didn't apologize. If anything, he felt his face twisting into a decidedly ungentlemanly smile. "I'll arrange for your transportation back to Francia. That's the least I could do."

Lady Grendel looked reasonably stunned. "W-what are you saying, Heika?"

"I'm telling you to leave," said Damien. He meant to soften the blow of his refusal with a more tolerant tone, but he couldn't find the heart to be a little more considerate. He felt giddy. He was going against the nobility. If word got around that he had shipped their chosen queen-to-be back to whence she came from, they'd probably murder him in his sleep – or worse.

Or to be fair, the nobles would perhaps choose a less barbaric way and just find a new highborn girl to be queen. It could go a lot of ways, Damien decided, but he no longer cared. He wasn't going to take this anymore. There was nothing the nobles could do to hurt him. He was alone, with no friends or family in Dai Shimaron. What did he have to lose? He only had his dignity, and since he had already surrendered that at the outset, why not try and claw his way out of this mire that he had buried himself into?

But fate was a fickle mistress, and soon after Lady Grendel stormed out of the throne room in a fit of hysterical tears, Damien found himself reevaluating his assumptions. There were several people converged at the doorway, and from the hostile looks on their faces, it was apparent that everyone had heard what had been said inside the room.

Damien had only a few seconds view of the mass disapproval being thrown his way before something else claimed his undivided attention. It was his turn to be stunned, for he hadn't expected to see a familiar face here, at the center of all things, when he'd just made a dangerous and hasty decision to fight back.

"The king of Shou Shimaron, Lord Saralegui," the doorman announced in a stiff voice, and Damien's hopes that he was merely hallucinating about the said king, vanished into the air. Didn't Saralegui send word that he wouldn't attend Damien's coronation? What made him change his mind?

Saralegui stepped inside the room, unsmiling for once, and Damien surmised from the other king's expression that something was dreadfully wrong.

* * *

><p><em>'It's not my fault.'<em>

Wolfram darted back, avoiding the full brunt of a sword that could have sliced him in half if it had connected. The Shinzoku soldier cursed as his attack missed, but recovered immediately, rallying to deal a fatal blow. Wolfram muttered another incantation, and the orbs of flame on his hands expanded like a shield, catching the sword that was meant to cut off his head.

_'It's not my fault.'_

The fire latched onto the metal, consuming the hilt in one second, spreading upward to the hand and body of the enemy soldier that held it. The Shinzoku gave an awful gasp before the flames smothered his voice; then he fell to the ground and moved no more.

_'It's not my fault.'_

_'It's _their_ fault.'_

_'Why wouldn't they leave me alone?!'_

The demand rang through his head, furious and desperate. The sane part of him was coercing his body to stop, to dispel the flames on his hand and rein in his element—

_'They'll kill you if you don't kill them first.'_

Wolfram threw his head back and laughed. The voice had spoken the truth. Why should he stop? This was fun. This was _exhilarating! _Why on earth should he stop?

_'Yes, fun, isn't it?' _the voice agreed. _'But be careful…'_

It was the first time that Wolfram had been told to be careful. He grinned despite himself. Careful of what? These soldiers were no match for him—

And then he felt it. An agonizing sting on his arm. Wolfram felt his flames sputtering, like a fire quenched by a bucket of water, and he lurched back, losing his balance. Had he been hit? He didn't even notice anything out of place.

_'You're getting weaker. You can't help it.'_

Wolfram fell to his knees. The last two Shinzoku soldiers loomed over him, faces alit with triumph. One swung his sword up, like an executioner who was about to fulfill his duty, and Wolfram knew he needed help.

The sword never struck. The winds turned and gathered speed, forcing the Shinzoku soldiers to grab onto the nearby trees to anchor them down. Wolfram bounded out of the way, as a gigantic shadow blotted out the black skies and its owner plunged down to earth with a deafening crash. Drache snarled; flames streamed out of its mouth, setting the Shinzoku ablaze. Somebody screamed, but a moment passed and no trace remained of Wolfram's last enemies.

It was over. The rain poured but failed to douse the flames. The air was black with smoke, and the ashes of the Shinzoku mingled with the soot, the blood, and the rainwater, making the earth look like some smudged portrait or a macabre painting. Like hell itself. And Wolfram thought that everything looked simply _wonderful…_

He caught himself in the next instant, and he turned away from the sight that now seemed what it was – bleak and hideous.

_'That was close,' _the voice remarked. Wolfram slowly got to his feet. Drache turned to him restlessly, claws digging into the ground, tail swishing in agitation.

Wolfram was a little shaken himself, and had no answer to the question in the dragon's eyes. _'What…' _he thought, '_just happened?' _

_'Your body's getting weaker.'_

Wolfram frowned. _'Meaning?'_

_'You're dying,' _the voice explained offhandedly.

For a split second, Wolfram was speechless. To be confronted with his mortality when so many tasks remained unfinished,was extremely upsetting.

_'Don't worry,'_ the voice continued, _'I know a way.'_

_'A way to do what exactly?'_

_'To prolong your life.'_

Wolfram knew that he should take that statement with caution, but he was curious enough to ask, _'What do you mean?'_

The voice didn't answer. Instead, Wolfram felt a tug, and compelled by some force that he couldn't name, he turned around. Someone was cowering by the cliffside, and Wolfram realized that Cedric hadn't left and had been watching the scrimmage all along.

Cedric was staring at him, seemingly petrified with horror. Wolfram returned the boy's gaze, and even without being told what to do, he _knew_. To hold back the deterioration of his strength, his powers. Wolfram knew what he must do.

Cedric let out a whimper, as Wolfram strode toward him, transfixed with some growing _hunger_ that he couldn't quite explain. He needed something—the boy's life—no—the boy's _soul—_

Wolfram reached out. Cedric shuddered, and his eyes turned upward until only the whites were showing—

Wolfram chuckled in anticipation. The boy's chest glowed, and an orb of light emerged. Wolfram stared at it greedily, knowing what it was and what it could do for him. He was so _hungry_—

"NO!"

Wolfram started. The light vanished, and Cedric fell back against the boulder, gasping and wheezing for air. A man had grabbed Wolfram and pulled him away from his prey.

"Emil…" Wolfram breathed in recognition, shaking his head, as though he had just surfaced from a deep lake. Had just awoken from a dark dream… "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think are _you_ doing to _him_?" Emil demanded in a harsh tone. "Have you lost your mind?! Are you going to start killing your own people like _he_ did?!"

"What…?"

"I thought nobody could be worse than Lord Ryuu. I'm changing my mind! You are the worst!"

Wolfram stumbled back, as if he'd been hit hard in the gut. He was himself again, and Emil's words were like a splash of freezing water, waking him brutally from the nightmare that he had floundered in for the past days.

_'Don't listen to him,'_ said the voice inside his head. But for the first time in a long while, Wolfram had no difficulty ignoring it. With a jolt of revulsion, he realized what he'd been about to do. It made him sick to his stomach.

"What have we done to you?" Emil raged at him. "What have we done to deserve this?!"

They didn't do anything. It wasn't their fault. It was his. It was Wolfram's fault.

_'It was MY fault.'_

Emil was right. What was he doing this for? Was it worth destroying the lives of the Ryuzoku? Was it enough reason to hurt and maim and kill? Was it enough to take another person's soul?

_'Don't listen to him—'_

_'Shut up!'_

_'You need the boy's soul,' _the voice argued. _'Take this bastard's soul, too—'_

"Stop it!" Wolfram said aloud, drowning that other voice that wouldn't stop telling him what to do. "STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!"

Flames spurted out of his hands. Drache let out a commiserating growl, and Wolfram turned on his heels and flung himself upon the dragon's back without another thought.

"Go!" he cried frantically, overwhelmed with fear at what he'd nearly done – at what he could do if he lost himself again.

Drache obeyed, bearing him up—past the treetops—far above the cliffs—to the highest crags—farther up—until the storm ceased and Wolfram couldn't feel the rain anymore but only an icy breeze against his cheeks. He opened his eyes. Stars twinkled at him from a velvet canvas of a sky, while just underneath, a sea of turbulent clouds grazed his feet.

He was running away, Wolfram realized. He wasn't supposed to leave; he was supposed to stay in the city. What would Shinou say?

Wolfram found that he no longer cared about Shinou. Or the plan. Or Ryuu. Or Yuuri. Or himself. He'd been so short-sighted, so selfish to recognize that he was fighting for one soul, one immaterial life at the expense of many. It was time to draw the line.

"Take me away," Wolfram whispered, resting his head upon the dragon's back. "Let's just go."

Drache let out a sound of approval, as they flew higher—farther—away—

But there was no escaping the voice inside his head.

_'It doesn't matter where you go,' _Ryuu's voice told him calmly. _'I'm always here.'_

* * *

><p>The Soul Stone flickered.<p>

Once.

A million dots of light blinked at him.

Twice.

A million speckles shone white against the dark Stone.

Thrice.

A million souls glimmered.

Before his incredulous eyes, one single dot appeared, a vivid crimson amidst the surrounding pale specks, like a drop of blood.

An aberration.

There was no mistaking it.

Gottfried laughed. He was neither relieved nor delighted at this development; he was merely amused.

The soul had shown itself. Shinou – with his grand schemes and clever plans – had failed all the same.

_'Now then,' _Gottfried thought as he regarded this one troublesome speck that represented the sole obstacle to his own plans, _'it is time for you to disappear.'_

* * *

><p>Purified a soul.<p>

Yuuri took a moment to let that sink in. Purified…a soul…? Was that what he did? Was that what they wanted him to do now? Purify Ryuu's soul…? But it still didn't make any sense! Shinou could have told him this earlier.

The doubt must have been evident on his face, for Murata hurried to explain, "Purifying Ryuu's soul is just one obstacle, Shibuya, because there are still some conditions that needed to be fulfilled."

"Of course there are," said Yuuri sarcastically. "Otherwise it would have been too easy."

"Shibuya…"

"Just say it."

Murata looked pained, and he answered hurriedly, as though saying it in one breath made the information a little less wounding, "One other condition is that the host should be sincerely willing to absorb the fragment back."

Yuuri would have laughed, because surely, that had to be a joke! Murata's somber expression, however, told him otherwise.

"It's a good thing Shinou drew this entire thing out then," Yuuri replied in the same scathing tone. "With all the people Ryuu had killed, I just couldn't _wait_ to make him a part of me. Yeah, that's it. Let's do this now."

The Keepers seemed to find this funny, but Murata and Shori weren't amused.

"Shinou had no choice but to draw it out," said Murata. "You see, one other condition for reintegration to take place concerns the length of time since the splitting occurred."

_Splitting._ Yuuri grimaced at the word. It made him feel so…dirty. So tainted. Like he wasn't even whole to begin with. Neither human nor demon. Just some creature that didn't belong anywhere. For a second, he wondered whether this was how Ryuu had felt, and suddenly, all the man's incomprehensible ramblings back at the battlefield made a little more sense to Yuuri.

_"Why do you always get everything, and I end up with nothing?!"_

Was that what he had been to Ryuu all along? The devil who took everything from him? Was this Ryuu's revenge – luring Wolfram into a wild goose chase? But no. If Ryuu truly loved Frey – if some of those feelings transferred onto Wolfram at all – then he wouldn't have wanted Wolfram to do any of this. Somehow, it all came back to Wolfram, to the choices Wolfram had made. Now Yuuri couldn't decide whether to feel angry or sad or betrayed, because no matter how much he wanted to curse Wolfram for doing this, nothing changed the fact that he _understood_. He loved Wolfram, and he understood what Wolfram was feeling. The desperate need to save someone you love no matter the cost – Yuuri _got_ that. But he was finding it more and more difficult to accept whom Wolfram was doing everything for. It made it all the more apparent that Wolfram wasn't just his any longer.

"So what happens now?" Yuuri asked. "Surely Shinou has figured out a way to get around this?"

Murata nodded. "Yes, there is a way. You see, it would have been ideal to put a soul together within a few years from the splitting. In your case, however, a long time had passed since Ryuu was unintentionally created, so for all purposes, it should be impossible."

"Get to the point, Murata," Yuuri snapped. If it was impossible, what was the point of going through with Shinou's plan?

"It _should be_ impossible," Murata emphasized. "It wasn't even an option…at least until a month ago."

Murata and Shori exchanged significant looks.

"I didn't believe it myself when Shinou first told me," Shori said. "But he said it was possible, that there was a way, and I think – given the alternative – that we should give it a try."

"To be more precise, Shinou was willing to _make_ a way," said Murata. "If you can purify Ryuu's soul, the only thing that stood in the way was _time_. And I agree with Shinou on this one. If it was only that, why don't we risk it?"

"Risk what, precisely?" asked Yuuri, guessing the answer but not wanting to be the one to say it aloud.

"Breaking the rules," Murata replied. "That is to say – bending time."

"But it isn't that easy," Shori added quickly, giving Yuuri the odd impression that he was watching a well-rehearsed act. It was as though his brother and his friend had practiced explaining everything before, perhaps to themselves or to one another.

As if to reinforce this, Murata said, right on cue, "Going back to that last instant – that last opportunity – when a reintegration was possible, took a lot of Shinou's strength. It took him nearly a month to open a portal."

"But Shinou said he is ready," said Shori. "Everything is ready."

"Which brings us to the other reason why Shinou asked Lord von Bielefeld to leave," Murata carried on. "He wanted Lord von Bielefeld to be away from you, to spare him the agony of being near you, but to be at an accessible place once we act on the plan. To make it easier for us to find him."

"That's why we think that Wolfram is – or at least near – a place called Raven Port, an ancient city that once belonged to the Ryuzoku. Shinou plans to open the portal there."

With great difficulty, Yuuri forced himself to assimilate every piece of information into one coherent mass. It was easier said than done, because as with everything that was revealed to him in the past hour, the whole lot sounded so improbable, so absurd.

"And what has the Ryuzoku got to do with this?" he asked, trying to hold onto the single, miniscule thread of sanity that he had left.

"To put it simply," answered Murata, "this last opportunity – this last chance – could only take place back during the time when Frey Lombard still lived."

Yuuri took this in with a shaky breath. He knew who Frey Lombard was, of course, but he wondered whether the knowledge should please him. So in the end, it all came down to this again? Why couldn't dead people stay dead, as they should be?

"That is our last shot, Shibuya," Murata said gravely.

Yuuri closed his eyes. What should be done? What the heck should he do?

"He's right, Yuuri," he heard Shori agree. "The only question now is…would you take it?"

* * *

><p>The Soul Stone flickered.<p>

Ulrike gazed at the Stone with foreboding, eyes moving swiftly over the dot-strewn surface, taking one moment to ascertain that her worst fears had indeed come true. One soul had disappeared from her vision. She placed a tentative hand over the device, willing the soul to show itself. Could the Stone be malfunctioning? They had hidden the soul, piling layers upon layers of protective magic over it so that it would never appear on any other soul-searching device. Shinou-Heika had ensured that the soul would never be found by anybody but them. Shinou-Heika had made it so the soul would never show on any other Stone – except for Ulrike's.

Ulrike felt a plummeting sensation of dismay, for no matter how hard she searched, the soul was not showing on her Stone.

Whether the soul was taken out of Shinou-Heika's field of protection against his will or the soul himself had breached the barrier, Ulrike could not tell. What she knew for certain was this:

Wolfram von Bielefeld had gone missing.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hah, I was wrong. I couldn't fit the 'Back to Shin Makoku' portion here, so it's going to be in the next chapter instead (I hope). But no matter – we're making progress! Thank you to everyone who posted a review, all guest reviewers included! Much appreciated!_

_(No chapter/s for any of my other stories. For those reading / following Anthology, you would be pleased to know that Part 3 is nearly complete, but I'm posting it together with Part 4 – which isn't quite as done (T_T). But I'm working on it!)_

_See you guys soon._


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